


The Harbinger's Blood

by solstice_sweetheart



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Companions Questline, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Hook-Up, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Occasional angst, Occasional fluff, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Retelling, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 119,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solstice_sweetheart/pseuds/solstice_sweetheart
Summary: After over a year of no dragons, Harbinger of the Companions, Anyaie Sylanitte, is shoved back into her role as the Last Dragonborn. Meanwhile, a new threat looms over the Companions, possibly because of Anyaie’s actions. Caught between balancing her role as Harbinger and Dragonborn, Anyaie must also confront her feelings for two of her shield-siblings and potentially ruin the harmony she sought to bring to the warriors of Jorrvaskr.This is a retelling of the Companions quest line, the main quest, along with the daedric quest “Ill Met in the Moonlight.” Apart from the Dragonborn, there will be some OCs that appear later in the story.Enjoy!
Relationships: Aela the Huntress/Skjor, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Farkas, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Hadvar, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Male Character(s), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Yngvar the Singer
Comments: 100
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is also crossposted at fanfiction.net under the same username (SolsticeSweetheart). If you've come across it there, not to worry! It's still me.
> 
> I also want to take a moment to give a huge thank you to   
> PoeticAnt44 whose thoughtful edits and comments push me to better my writing. 
> 
> All comments and feedback welcome! Enjoy!
> 
> (Note from September 9, 2020: Due to the nature of some of the scenes present here, I've decided to raise the rating to explicit, even though a good chunk of the story is mature. If there are other warnings that come up, I promise I'll be sure to tag them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter has been edited from when it was originally released on August 19, 2020.

_Mondas, 12th day of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

The Falmer screeched as my battleaxe sliced through its neck. It was always a strangely satisfying feeling, having a blade cut muscle and tendon so easily. Its body crumpled to the ground, blood still gushing forth from where the head once was. I turned to my shield-brother here, who still had his sword drawn.

Most of the Nords I met since entering Skyrim were fair-haired. Vilkas was striking in comparison with his glacial blue eyes and dark hair. His high cheekbones and hawkish nose might have marked him as being from noble birth in another life. In this lifetime, he was a fellow Companion.

The blood dripped from my axe, making a tiny puddle on the floor. The decapitated Falmer’s corpse was sprawled along the floor. _A woman had to collect her ingredients_ , I thought to myself. I could feel Vilkas’ curious gaze fall upon me as I grabbed the Falmer’s head. The Falmer might have been beautiful once, if the legends were true, but you would have never known it with their bat like noses and leathery skin. Their skin became hard afterwards, making it easier for me to rip the ears with a quick and bloodless snap. Vilkas said nothing here. Now that that was done, we could loot the rest.

“Two septims, a ruby, his armour, and some Falmer arrows,” I announced. “I have no interest in the armour, but I’m happy to keep the ruby and the septims and since we agreed to split...”

I unceremoniously dropped a single gold coin in Vilkas’ hand and he scowled.

“I thought you said this would be lucrative,” he grumbled.

“In knowledge,” I said. “I thought you would like to see the Dwemer excavation here for yourself.”

“What are you going to use that ruby for anyhow?”

“My smithing,” I said. “I have to make enough to sustain myself.”

“You’re the Harbinger, and a thane of several holds.”

“Thane is an honorary title with no monetary benefits,” I reminded him.

“Fine, keep the ruby,” he sighed. “But I reserve the right to ask you to do grunt work for the next month.”

“Of course,” I said. “Now, do we carry on and defeat the rest?”

“Aye. After you, Harbinger.” I nodded and walked ahead of him.

The Falmer, even in their decrepit state, retained that odd gracefulness that most elves had. That meant they were also exceptionally quiet. Vilkas walked alongside me now, matching my pace. For just a moment, I thought I heard the sound of footsteps, so light and so delicate that they might not have been there. My hands reached out for my battleaxe, only to realize there was not a single Falmer in sight.

“Watch it there, sister,” Vilkas warned.

“I know, but...something isn’t right,” I told him.

“Too little Falmer for such a big space,” he agreed.

“Keep your sword drawn and follow,” I ordered. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

I wasn’t wrong. Mere moments later, four Falmer skulked towards us. One on its own was unsettling, the lot of them was enough to make my blood curdle. They had no eyes, just dented sockets, and hideous mouths with jagged little teeth. There were too many approaching all at once.

“ _YOL_!” I shouted.

The words burned in my mouth and poured forth as fire. The words tasted like smoke afterwards, though that might have also been the scent of burning Falmer skin. I managed to at least get two of them with my _thu’um_. _I can do it again_ after, I told myself. I swung my battleaxe at one of the burning Falmer. Without needing to tell him a single word, Vilkas charged at the other burning Falmer. Both had been relatively weak thanks to my _thu’um_ and their defeat was not much of a surprise. Skulkers and Gloomlurkers, as those two had been, were no problem.

“Get the other Skulker first!” I ordered. “I’ll deal with the Nightprowler.”

Though they were not the worst of the Falmer, the Nightprowlers were annoying. This one gave me the closest thing that twisted mouth could give me to a menacing grin. The smoke still lingered in my mouth. _Not yet_ , I thought. It came at me with its bound sword. A one-handed weapon could be relatively easy to disarm, but the Nightprowlers were notorious for their casting abilities and I could see it primed a spell in its right hand. We charged towards each other, my glass battleaxe connecting with its sturdy sword.Just as my hammer lowered, the Nightprowler lunged its sword straight towards my chest. It didn’t pierce through the armor, but it stunned me for a moment. It was enough time for the Nightprowler to cast an ice shard.

That was the strange thing about the ice shards. They didn’t kill you, not unless you were weak. I could feel it though. It feels like the stab of a dagger at first, until the ice sets in. It spreads from the chest outwards. Your legs feel like you’ve never worn heavy amour before, your arms no longer suited to wield a weapon.

“Ysmir curse you!”

No sooner did Vilkas emerge and charge his sword right at the Falmer’s abdomen. _Do not let that bastard have a restoration spell_ , I thought. I knew it the moment I saw the slight flicker of gold in its palm. _Bastard, bastard, bastard_ , I thought. Despite the ice, I pulled myself up. _I’m warmer_ , I thought. _Good_. My legs still felt heavy as I moved forward. As Vilkas took the Falmer from the front, I caught him in back. It was a weak move, inelegant and gory, but it did the trick. Between both of our blades, the Nightprowler fell in instants.

“Need a healing potion?” Vilkas panted.

“No,” I answered, my voice gruff. “Let me just…”

Each school of magic felt different; restoration reminded me of a hearth in the middle of winter when you were purely on the receiving end. Casting it was like warm blood spilling out of your palm, pleasant at first but taxing. Being both healer and receiver was a delicate balancing act, especially to avoid a magicka burnout. I closed my eyes and whispered words that had become second nature to me. I felt the glow of the spell in my palm before its effects. Healing was a slow spell, but it didn’t use as much magicka as rapidly as other spells did. I didn’t push it and at least I felt more like myself.

“Your magicka?” he asked.

“Should be fine,” I said. “Here. Take this.”

I tossed him a potion of frost resistance that I had crafted myself. Nothing extraordinary went into it, just some snowberries and thistle branches. He took a swig from it and made a face.

“They’re not supposed to taste good,” I reminded him. “They’re supposed to be effective.”

I turned to continue walking and just as I did, I could see him gulp down the rest. _He would not have had it if it tasted_ ** _that_** _bad_ , I thought. _I would say the combination of berries and thistle milk should taste fine_. He would be too prideful to tell me that. I learned very early on that it was better to let him be stubborn when he wanted to be. So long as it worked, which I knew it would. My mother had spent too much time drilling potion ingredients and effects into my mind.

I motioned him for him to follow me and he fell back into easy pace next to me as we walked amongst the ruins. Throughout my time in Skyrim, I had raided bandit dens and explored eerie crypts filled with draugr. The crypts were never really silent, not in the way that Dwemer ruins were. Whenever we were near machinery, we could hear the whirring and wheezing of their ancient, yet still effective inventions. That wasn’t bad. In fact, it was tolerable. It was whenever we found ourselves outside and into the “city” that there was a dreadful stillness. Perhaps it was the thought that an entire race had vanished without much explanation and that we walked amongst their ruins. Haunted was the word Vilkas used. It would have been one thing if the ruins themselves were decrepit, but the eerie part was how well preserved they were. _Had they known? Did they prepare?_ I wondered. _If I were to die here…_ I shook the thought off. We were inside a building. That was good enough.

We entered the next room and were greeted by a terrible stench. _Rotting flesh_. Vilkas made a face here and pointed to where the body was. I approached the corpse. Conjuring robes. Judging from his colouring, he was likely a Nord or a Breton. _This must be one of the excavation workers that Alethius spoke about in his notes_ , I thought. Vilkas called my name and tossed me a journal. _Stromm_ , I noted, looking at the inside flap. A Breton, like myself. _Seems like Skyrim has a way of being perilous for us_ , I thought.

I skimmed through his notes quickly, more out of curiosity than anything else. _All educated guesses_ , I thought. He assumed these particular structures must have housed two clans or families. A fair assumption, I would come to realize later. He remarked the difficulty he and three of the other members of the excavation were having with the Falmer. I pocketed his notes for Calcelmo and proceeded to examine the rest of the room.

“That tree,” Vilkas said, drawing my attention to the tree at the center of the room. “It looks like the Gildergreen near Jorrvaskr.”

“Stromm had mentioned that the tree looked like it was from Whiterun,” I said. “He speculated it was a gift, or some show of power.”

My girls, Lucia and Sofie, often loved playing with Lars and Braith around the Gildergreen. Since it had been restored too, I noticed an increase in pilgrims and devotees who wanted to see the wonder for themselves. This one wasn’t quite as beautiful as the Gildergreen tree in the Wind District, though it probably hadn’t seen any real sunlight or water in years. It still retained some pink flowers and the branches were not quite wilted. Maybe Kynareth really did bless Gildegreens. After everything I had seen, it seemed plausible.

“You were the one who restored the one at home,” Vilkas said.

“I was,” I said. “The priestess at the Temple of Kynareth asked for my assistance. I must say I’m surprised you know about that. It was before I was a Companion.”

Vilkas shrugged. “Word gets around.”

There was no doubt that my name had grown enough around Skyrim. Surely most people knew of my exploits: defeating the dragon at Whiterun, becoming a thane of Markarth and Falkreath respectively, and becoming the Harbinger of the Companions. I could imagine Vilkas and the others knowing of my feats by word of mouth if I hadn’t said it to him. Even though we all shared tales, there were some stories I kept to myself. The Gildegreen was one of those. I hadn’t wanted glory for that. My parents made me respect Kynareth’s path and whatever I felt about their values, I could respect that much.

“I’ve heard talks of your exploits as well. People speak of you favorably,”I said.

“People’s coffers speak volumes,” he said. “Provide the right amount of coin and I’ll happily kill anything.”

“Is that your way of ending the conversation so we can loot?” I asked.

He let out a chuckle, probably despite himself. “Harbinger first, so long as I don’t get the leftovers.”

We split whatever septims we found evenly and I decided to hand off the flawless sapphires to him. Divines know he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I decided to take that one as well. He was at least gracious to let me take the malachite and moonstone ingots we found. _These would work beautifully to make new glass weapons_ , I thought.

Vilkas and I then proceeded deeper into the ruins until we hit the armory. Unsurprisingly, another wave of Falmer attacked. Just Skulkers though. Nothing extraordinary. They were the equivalent of skeevers: pests, annoying, and relatively easy to kill with a quick swing of an axe or a simple _thu’um_. It was there we found our second scholar, Erj, with a Falmer axe still buried into his back. We discovered his journal lying next to him. _Poor bastard_ , I thought. _Probably wasn’t expecting it_.

“He was hoping to get rich from this,” I noted, reading a passage where he mentioned buying a castle with the gold he would get from selling pieces from the excavation.

“That hardly surprises me,” Vilkas said. “People already pay exorbitant amounts for what they suppose are Dwemer pieces. The gold he would have made if they were proven to be authentic…”

A chill went down my spine looking at Erj’s corpse. He wasn’t the first corpse I had seen and he wouldn’t be the last one either. _He was no warrior_ , I thought. _He probably hadn’t been able to defend himself against the Falmer._

“Let’s continue moving forward,” Vilkas suggested.

“Let’s,” I agree, leaving Erj’s body behind.

We continued among the ruins in much of the same way. We were able to retrieve the other journals and notes, but not without a bit of trouble from the Falmer. That was part and parcel of every mission.

“We need to get out of here, but it’s clear this place is still crawling with Falmer around every corner. Judging by Krag and Staubin’s notes, we are very outnumbered,”I said.

“What do you suggest then?” Vilkas asked.

“Perhaps if we can cause a distraction, we can at least get ourselves out unscathed.”

“Fine but…”

The answer dawned on both of us. 

“The Dwemer defenses,” I said. “Surely they must still work. Staubin’s journal mentioned that there appears to be a lever to trigger them up ahead. We’ll activate it.”

“Then we make a run for it,” Vilkas added. “I believe we did what we were set out to do. I’d like to return to Jorrvaskr in one piece.”

“Same,” I said. “According to Staubin’s notes, the door here should lead us back to the ‘outside’ of the city. We should be able to swim across the water undetected and get back to the newer excavation site.”

“Aye. Lead the way.”

We rushed up the stairs and located the lever in a box that looked like it could have been from a lift. I laid my hand on the lever, but hesitated before pulling it. It would be a blood bath out there, even if it wasn’t ours. Still…it wouldn’t necessarily stop them from attacking us. We were taking a chance, but it was our only one. Our eyes locked here.

“I will lay low,” I promised. “Do the same. Divines be with you, brother.”

“And you as well, sister,” he said.

It was customary for us to do this during riskier jobs. Nothing would have been out of the ordinary. Still, my eyes lingered on him for just a moment longer than usual. How strange to think this was where we were now. If this were the last time I would see him, it would be as a shield-brother and a trusted friend. _Don’t indulge those thoughts_ , I told myself. _Soon enough, you will be drinking mead and telling the others about your adventure._ Taking a deep breath, my hand finally yanked the lever. With a loud and distinct _click_ , the defenses were activated.

Everything that followed seemed to happen so quickly. Vilkas and I rushed through the doors and made our way down a spiral ramp. Along our way down, we could see the Falmer fighting off the gleaming and golden Dwarven spiders and spheres. A couple of centurions also appeared to be activated. Though they were gigantic, even towering over the Falmer, they were surprisingly quick on their feet. I learned that the hard way the first time I had encountered one. They were the prime achievement of Dwemer defenses, wielding a battleaxe in one hand and a warhammer on the other. The piercing shrieks of the Falmer resonated across the forgotten city. _Ignore them_ , I thought. _Just ignore them._ Once we were down the stairs, we proceeded to swim. I drained out all the sounds of Falmer swords hitting dwarven plate.

The door to get back to the main excavation was merely a few feet away from us. We must have both noticed at the same time because we both swam faster. When we did pull ourselves out of the water, we were panting, but we had done it. All that remained was getting up those stairs. It would be smooth sailing from there. That was when the Dwarven warhammer struck Vilkas across his chest and sent him tumbling onto his back.

My heart stopped beating for a moment. The Dwarven centurion. It must have been hidden behind an alcove further off and heard us. I could see the hulking mass of Dwarven plate approach Vilkas now. He tried to pull himself off the ground, but with little success; the centurion swung its warhammer once more and Vilkas let out a terrible cry as his head hit the ground. _No_ , I thought. _Not like this._

For a moment, I forgot the heavy Nordic armor that I wore. I sprang as if I had my elven armour on. The _thu’um_ was building up in my throat, itching and waiting to emerge. Just as the centurion was about to bring its axe onto Vilkas, I tossed him out of the way, only the Nine know how.

“ _FUS RO DAH_ ,” I shouted.

The _thu’um_ hit the centurion as precisely as an arrow hitting a bull’s eye. It was flung back to the stairs, and I could see it rock on its feet. It managed to regain its balance, but it looked as though it was recalibrating as it stood deadly still. _A shame it didn’t trip and fall,_ I thought. If my shout alone wasn’t enough, I would ensure that my axe and I were ample.

Taking on a centurion alone was no small task. My first time conquering one had been a stroke of good luck and I thanked whatever divine allowed me to live after that encounter. This centurion would not be so lucky. I took advantage of its disoriented state and charged after it. I managed to get one quick swing across its torso, but that was the end of the easy part. It stirred back to life and brought its blade to meet mine. I successfully managed to block it, but I knew I would not be so lucky for the other shots. The centurion now swung the warhammer and I moved backward, successfully avoiding its impact.

It was then or never. If I couldn’t disarm its weapons, I would disarm it as literally as possible. The adrenaline coursed through my veins. Everything felt both surreal and too real. Even as I recall it, it seems more like a dream and less like reality. The world began to slow down. I raised the battleaxe above my head, a move so familiar and so comfortable to me, and brought it down onto the centurion with all of my strength. It was not the satisfying and clean cut I wanted. I let out another shout here, _fol_ , or frost. The centurion froze. Knowing how little time I had, I raised the axe above my head once more and swung it downwards. I did it again, and again, and again, watching the way the coppery wires, like tendons and muscles, began to peer through the dwarven plate. Sparks began to crackle and pop. Its movements became jerkier, stunting every few seconds. Soon enough, its aim began to falter.

“ _YOL_!” I shouted once more.

The fire spilled from my lips towards the centurion, causing its gleaming coppery tendons to catch on fire. It let out a terrible sound that wasn’t quite human, not quite pain, not in the way the Falmer did. A shout, not a _thu’um_ , but a very human shout tore through my body as I slashed the centurion with my blade. The centurion tensed here and I knew what was to follow. I backed away as it fell to its knees, its weapons clattering onto the floor. Just like that, everything was still again. I could hear my shallow breaths and feel my fingers trembled on my axe’s handle and…

“Vilkas!” I exclaimed.

There was no time to think, just act. There was no telling if my fight with the centurion would attract Falmer or if the other centurions would appear. Although I wasn’t able to carry his body, I could at least drag it up the stairs as best as I could. A bad back would be the least of his problems. I pushed the door of the newer excavation site open and shut it behind me.

_The coast is clear_ now, I thought, and I would be safe to do what I could. I knelt next to him now, trying to steady my breath. It wasn’t the time to panic. I needed to gage the situation so I could act. I didn’t waste a second to see if he still had a pulse. I brought my fingers to his neck. Still there and still faint. My heart was still racing in my chest. It was still too soon to thank the Divines. Even if the centurion’s blows hadn’t been fatal, his head wound may well have been. I didn’t have much time to waste, even if there was no guarantee anything I did would work.

One of the most common things healers are told is to set your emotions aside; regardless of what you feel about the person you heal, you have been tasked with a great gift and your job is to bestow it without discrimination. Preservation before reservations, or some silly line like that _._ I had seen my father disinfect wounds almost mercilessly; no matter how much people writhed and groaned, he didn’t care. He had a task and he was meant to accomplish it. That was what I told myself as the familiar and radiant warmth gathered in my palms. I could feel the magic build beneath my skin, eager to be released. _Kynareth, be with me please_ , I prayed.

I spoke the spell into existence and felt the golden light leaving my palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback present in chapter 1 has been moved to chapter 3. To facilitate the flow of the story, chapters 1 and 2 are dedicated to the present, whereas chapters 3 and 4 go back to the past. Chapter 5 picks up on the present once more. There will be a lot of bouncing back and forth with flashbacks! They're a huge part of retelling the Companions quest line and contribute to the issues that Anyaie will face in the present. I'll always have the date included when I'm shifting times to keep things clear!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter has been modified from when it was originally posted on August 19. See previous chapter for clarification.

The light continued to pour forth from my hands and throughout his body. His breathing became rapider and shallower. This was the point where newer healers would panic. I didn’t. I kept my effort steady and constant. Sometimes the body eagerly accepted restoration. Sometimes it resisted. Clearly Vilkas’ body was as stubborn as he was. _Come now, stubborn bastard_ , I thought. I brought one of my hands back to his neck. His pulse was rapid now. That was normal enough in a state of resistance, but I needed to get him out of that. I had to.

“I know you can hear me,” I started. “I am doing everything I can right now. You have to fight for your life. This is victory or Sovngarde.”

_Please. Please choose victory._

I continued to use my healing hands. “Slow and steady,” my father had told me. “Never use a huge burst of magicka if you can help it.” _Slow and steady_ , I repeated to myself. The warmth was beginning to feel stiflingly hot and I could feel the sweat drip down my forehead, stinging my eyes. Even though I wiped the sweat away, my vision began to blur around the edges. The light had simmered down to a few sparks, barely covered even half of his body. That was when the reality of the situation started to set in; if I didn’t act soon, Vilkas would be dead and I would only have myself to blame.

I ceased my efforts for a moment and took out my satchel. That was the lovely thing about enchanted satchels; you could safely store nearly anything in there up to a certain weight and it wouldn’t weigh a thing. I fumbled through the potions I had stored: restore health, restore stamina, frost resistance, fortify heavy armour, fortify two-handed, all of these, but nothing to restore magicka. I frantically looked through it again, but nothing. How could I possibly restore his health if I could barely regenerate my magicka?

That was when it hit me: Vilkas never offered something he couldn’t provide. He always kept his satchel close to his sheath. I found it and scanned through its contents quickly. I let out a gasp when I found a small glittering blue vial. I hurriedly unscrewed the top and gulped all of it in a single go, ignoring the strange grassy taste it left in my mouth. Within instants, a surge of energy, almost like a _thu’um_ , travelled throughout my hands. This was a potent one and it was exactly what I needed if I was going to successfully restore him.

Slow and steady would no longer do. I didn’t care if I burned out on my magicka again. The only way that Vilkas was going to pull through is if I did something drastic. I pictured myself as a vessel and poured every bit of magicka I had into my hands. The usual bright and golden glow transformed into blinding white heat. My hands felt as though they were on fire. I wanted to release the spell and be done with it. _Control it_ , a little voice at the back of my mind warned. _One wrong move and you won’t be able to save him_. I brought my hands onto his chest, spoke the words, and pushed down. The spell pulsed out of my fingertips and I felt as it moved throughout his chest, tightening every muscle.

“Please,” I whispered.

His body became as taut as a drawn bow. Now his breath was even more staggered. _No, no, no, no, no_.

_Vilkas. Please. Please. Please._

He stopped breathing here. My entire body went cold.

How could it have failed? I poured everything into it. _Everything_. My magicka was certainly all gone at this point, but I didn’t feel it. As I watched his chest rapidly fall up then down, I realized I failed him, and myself. It had been a foolhardy to think that I was able to perform such a complicated spell. It had been even more foolish to bring him to these ruins. He hadn’t even wanted to, even for the gold. _I_ wanted his company. In putting my wants before his, I had damned him to death. And the others…by the Nine…how would I tell the _others_? Farkas. Farkas would be devastated and…

“Urgghh.”

The sound snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned my attention back to Vilkas and checked his pulse. _It’s…normal_ , I thought. In the otherwise eerie silence of the ruins, his now steady breathing was a welcomed sound. I watched his face intently, waiting for the moment his eyes would open. If they did, I would thank the Nine profusely. I would never complain about another job from him again and take his stubbornness in stride. I would make my potions taste better. Anything. Just not losing him.

His eyes fluttered open and, with whatever limited strength he had, tried to meet my gaze.

“Vilkas?” I asked.

“My head,” he groaned.

“More than your head,” I told him. “I know it hurts, but I need you to focus on me. We have to get out of here if we’re going to properly heal you.”

“How bad…”

“Not right now,” I cut in, and rummaged through my satchel again. “Can you move your arms?”

Much to my surprise, he slowly managed to prop himself so he could sit up. His heavy breathing told me that it had been no small feat to accomplish. I would have to be careful not to tire him out, or else all the effort I had put into healing him will have gone to waste.

“You’re going to drink this,” I told him. “It won’t taste good, but you’ll need your strength for a bit while longer.”

He grabbed healing potion and gulped it down. Though it wouldn’t magically heal all of his injuries, it would at least give him the strength to make it to my home in the city. Hopefully.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked.

“Not great,” he answered.

“We’re going to have to get you to stand,” I said. “I don’t expect you to be able to walk well, but you’ll have to lean on my shoulder. If I can get you to Vlindrel Hall and out of these ruins, I can actually treat you there.”

“I’m going to try on my own.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded here. I was about to help him, but he lifted his hand to say “stop.” I wasn’t keen on it and he must have realized it, so he lifted his index up. _Wait_. He brought his left arm over his legs and turned his torso to the right. A pause. He grunted as he pushed himself onto his knees. He stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch his breath. I couldn’t let him stay like that. I extended my hand to him. He didn’t do anything at first.

“Grab on,” I told him. “It’s easier that way.”

Vilkas sighed and put his hand in mine. I was able to pull him up, but he was unstable on his feet. I placed his arm around my shoulders.

“We’re going to go slow,” I said. “If the pain becomes unbearable, we’ll stop. Do you hear?”

“Yes.”

The first step was the hardest one and he nearly tripped over me. In ordinary circumstances, I may have made fun of him for being so graceless. Though our first couple of steps were difficult, we eventually fell into a slow, but even, pace. _The sooner I get him to Vindrel Hall, the better_ , I thought. He didn’t breathe a word the entire walk back to Understone Keep. Better that way; there was no point in saying useless words when we could both focus on getting ourselves out of the ruins alive.

I walked over the corpses of frostbite spiders we had killed earlier. The dead Imperial body near the entrance of the ruins meant nothing. I would get him back to Vindrel Hall. I hated these damn ruins with their strange silences and stranger creatures. Arriving at Understone Keep had been a hollow victory; there was still ways to go before we made it home.

It was there that the court wizard, Calcelmo, saw me. An old Altmer conjurer, Calcelmo was considered a leading scholar of Dwenmer studies…though I had never read one of his books. We had met somewhat unconventionally. I was tasked by Mara’s temple to assist him in the matters of the heart. One happy couple later, some errands, and the title of thane, it was safe to say we were on friendly and familiar terms. I could even say I was fond of the old elf, even when he could be a bit scattered. 

“My thane!” Calcelmo greeted. “And….Divines!”

“I’ll contact you later,” I said, while walking away. “I need to get him somewhere safe first.”

“Set him here,” Calcelmo insisted while chasing after me, “I can cast healing hands on him.”

“I tried that,” I said. “It took a more extreme version of the spell to get him awake.”

“Divines! How badly was he injured?”

“Bad enough,” I answered.

“Here, lad,” Calcelmo said to Vilkas. “Wrap your other arm around me.”

“I…” Vilkas started.

“Do it. That’s an order,” I said.

We continued along Understone Keep until we made it out to the city of Markarth itself. Markarth was, essentially, a city built upon a city. The Dwenmer had lived there before the Nords did, but where they vanished to, nobody could know for sure. The city reminded me of the ruins without the uncanniness. The dwarves were known for their craftsmanship. The stonework of each building remained in tact and still pleasant to the eye, and even the plumbing in each building remained functional. I wondered if the ruins of Nchuand-Zel would have looked that impressive if they weren’t shrouded in darkness.

We were greeted by the sound of the river, which split the city into two districts: the Riverside and the Dryside. Vlindrel Hall, my home, was located up several flights of stairs on the Dryside. We were bombarded with questions from the guards as we made our way there, some being kind enough to offer their help, but Calcelmo and I both dismissed them. The less people, the better. Between both of us, we could help Vilkas without sounding any other alarms. The jarl wouldn’t be too alarmed either; Igmund knew me well enough at this point to assume I wouldn’t cause him much, if any, trouble.

“We’re finally here,” I said. “Calcelmo, hold onto him for a moment. I’ll summon Argis to assist us.”

I pushed the door to Vlindrel Hall open. One of Markarth’s many formerly dwarven buildings, I had tried to furnish it to look less like the Dwenmer ruins and more like a home. Although I never saw the girls and I living here, I pretended to decorate it as if they would stay with me. Stone walls and floors always made the place look more like a temple, so I placed a small seating area by the fire, a lustrous wood dining table at the center of the room, shelves along the perimeters of the walls, and various decorations and trinkets I had gathered throughout my time in Skyrim. It wasn’t Breezhome, to be sure, but it had its own charm.

“Argis!” I shouted.

No sooner had I called out to him had he appeared. The people of Markarth had nicknamed him “Argis the Bulwark,” and it wasn’t difficult to see why. He was a large man whose burly physique spoke to years of combat. It was a shame he was a housecarl sometimes; he would have been a fine Companion had he ever made his way to Whiterun.

“My thane?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I require your assistance. Follow me.”

Argis nodded and trailed behind me as I led him to the front door. He relieved Calcelmo of holding up Vilkas and wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders. Once he was confident, he walked back into the house with Vilkas. I trailed closely behind him with Calcelmo and shut the door behind me, lest the guards came up with the brilliant idea to see what we were doing. As soon as we were inside, I stepped ahead of Argis.

“In the bedroom,” I ordered. “It’ll be easier to tend to him there.”

Once we made it to my room, Argis and I helped Vilkas onto my bed. In any other circumstances, having a man in dirty armor on my bed would be less than pleasant. Anything dirty on my bed was enough for me to be annoyed. My poor children would know that better than anyone else.

“Anything else I can do, my thane?” Argis asked.

“Yes. Prepare some stew,” I said. “He will need to regain his strength once he awakes.”

“And yourself? Should you not take some as well?”

“I…I suppose,” I said. “You do make a fine beef stew and it’s been a while since I’ve had it.”

“As you command,” he said. With that, Argis was off, leaving myself, Calcelmo and Vilkas.

I was about to turn to address Vilkas when I noticed that his eyes were closed. He was soundly asleep. _Good_ , I thought. _The more sleep he gets right now the better, and the less arguments._

“What happened to him anyhow?” Calcelmo asked.

“A dwarven centurion,” I told him. “Knocked him out with the full force of its warhammer. He hit his head the second time it swung, and it was enough to make him unconscious.”

“How did you heal him afterwards?”

“Simple,” I said. “I used healing hands on him. I tried delivering a steady and constant amount of magicka, which I assumed helped, but his body was resisting healing. I restored my magicka and delivered the spell in a huge burst. His body still resisted, but it appears to have worked.”

“I never knew you were so skilled in restoration,” Calcelmo said.

I shrugged. “Fighting is only one of my skills.”

“Considering what you’ve told me, he’s in remarkably good shape,” the old wizard said. “Sleep will help him tremendously.”

“No doubt. I’m not heading back to Whiterun before he’s well enough to travel. I’ve been trying to think of potions I can give him as well,” I said. “I was thinking wheat and blue mountain flowers to fortify health. Every once in a while, if he is fine with it, I can continue using restoration magic on him.

“A good idea,” Calcelmo agreed. “When he awakens, I’ll see if I can convince him to let me heal him once.”

“I can do that,” I protested.

“While I have no doubt, you need your rest as well,” Calcelmo insisted. “It’ll do you no good to try and drain your magicka another time.”

“Fine,” I sighed.

“Good. Now go. Remove your armor. He’s in good hands with me.”

I didn’t want to leave him there, but Calcelmo was right. There was no sense in wearing myself out, especially if I would be taking care of him for the next little while.

Although I would usually use my room to undress, I decided to use a more private area of the house to clean myself up. _Washing will do me good_ , I thought. The first step of that would be to remove my armor. Most who wore armor had someone to assist them remove the armor, whether that was a squire, a friend, or a spouse. Though I could have asked Argis, I did it by myself. It was a tedious task, but I had never needed anyone to help me before when I adventured on my own. First my gauntlets, then my helmet, my greaves, boots, and finally, the most stupidly laborious, my chest piece. I took a quick look at my armor as I set it aside. It had been stained with Falmer blood and scratched in several places. My lips quirked here. It was still in relatively good shape all considering.

Something that I had to give Vlindrel Hall was its exceptional plumbing. Although many had tried to replicate the Dwenmer plumbing systems, they often failed. This was one of the few luxuries I enjoyed having and I would take advantage of it. I entered a small area that had a faucet attached to the wall. I opened the tap and let the cold water fall on to my head. Whatever I actually felt about Markarth, I could at least enjoy feeling clean. 

As soon as I was done, I changed into a simple blue dress and returned to Vilkas and Calcelmo. Vilkas was still soundly asleep and I didn’t have the heart to awaken him yet. Calcelmo, for his part, seemed to be occupied with one of the books he found in my room.

“I can always trust you to find some reading material,” I said.

“Mmm, of course. What else is a scholar to do while he’s unoccupied?” he answered, barely lifting his nose.

“If you’re that bored, we can discuss the lost expedition.”

He closed his book here. “What did you find?”

“Four corpses,” I told him. “Along with their journals. Here, take a look.”

"Let's see… ah, so that's what happened to Staubin. Tragic, but I warned him he was leading those people on a fool's errand. Unfortunately, sometimes the stone of scholarship is built on the foundation of death. I'll inform the kin,” he said.

“Tell them the Companions extend their condolences,” I told him.

“I will. Now, as for you, here. I usually pay researchers for their works when they emerge from the ruins, but they won't be needing it anymore,” Calcelmo said, producing a bag full of septims.

“That’s not necessary,” I protested. “Agreeing to help me with Vilkas was already a favour. Consider us even.”

“You both risked your lives to find out the fate of these poor men. This is the least I can reward you with,” he said.

I hesitated, but accepted it. Although I could have done without the coin, I couldn’t let Vilkas go uncompensated for his work. Judging by the weight of the bag, I knew he would be more than pleased with his share. _Perhaps if I jangle it in front of him, he’ll awake_ , I thought. Surely enough, I heard him stirring in bed.

“Did I hear something about payment?” Vilkas mumbled.

“Aye,” I sighed. “It would figure that gold would be the only thing to bring you back from the dead.”

“How are you feeling, lad?” Calcelmo asked, turning his attention to Vilkas.

“Well enough.”

“Any pain?” I asked

“Just the ribs and my head,” he said.

“I’ll take that,” I said. “Calcelmo and I were discussing whether or not you wanted to receive more restoration magic. It would probably speed your recovery significantly.”

“I would take over this round. The Harbinger needs her rest,” Calcelmo said.

“Have at it then,” Vilkas said.

Although Calcelmo was a conjurer by trade, he knew his way around his restoration spells as well. He summoned the golden glow of restoration so quickly and easily that I hadn’t even noticed it happened. He was able to methodically transfer the glow throughout Vilkas’ entire body with great control and rather quickly. It almost reminded me of my father’s work. Vilkas remained relatively relaxed throughout. I could see the colour returning to his face and the darkness around his eyes lessened a little.

“How are you faring now?” Calcelmo asked.

“Better,” Vilkas said. He slowly propped himself on the bed, leaning his back on the headboard.

“Don’t exert yourself too much either,” the wizard warned. “Proper restoration only works if the body rests. As for you, thane, do you have all the proper ingredients for his potions?”

“I should,” I said. “I’m always sure to have wheat and blue mountain flowers on me.”

“Good lass. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have research to return to. Be well.”

“Thank you,” Vilkas said. “Your efforts are appreciated.”

“Thank you indeed, Calcelmo,” I said.

“Don’t thank me. Come see me if you have any further concerns. In the meantime, I wish you a speedy recovery,” he said.

The old Altmer made his exit, leaving Vilkas and I to ourselves. Silence filled the room. I wasn’t sure what to say first or what I should tell him. All the thoughts from earlier rushed to me. I couldn’t overwhelm him with that. Not right now. So, I settled on the safest thing.

“You need to listen to Calcelmo,” I urged. “We are not returning to Whiterun until I’m satisfied with your healing.”

“I…I know,” he said.

“And how do you feel, truly?” I asked.

“As great as I can feel right now,” he said. “It should pass.”

_It had better_ , I thought. _I did not pour all my magicka just for you to become unwell again._

“Argis is making beef stew. Once he’s done, I suggest you eat some.”

“Will you keep me company?” he asked.

“Of course. When have I ever left a shield-brother to eat alone? Though I should check on the stew before anything.”

“I’ll be here. As if I can go anywhere.”

“Who knows? Maybe being bedbound might do you some good for a change,” I mused. “Perhaps you can finally knit me that scarf you’ve been promising me.”

“I won’t be here _that_ long.”

“I’m a thane in this hold,” I reminded him. “I can command you to knit anything until I’m satisfied.”

“That’s an honorary title,” he retorted. “You don’t hold _that_ much power.”

“Hmm. Yes. But the jarl would probably agree that his esteemed thane should be warm and fashionable at all times.”

“You’re…intolerable.”

“Show some gratitude, brother. You’re residing in my house now.”

“And what a shame that is.”

I rolled my eyes and went to check in on Argis. He was at the fireplace, whittling as he waited for the stew to be ready.

“My sincerest apologies for my brusque tone earlier,” I said.

“There is no need to apologize, my thane, ” he said.

“Anyaie,” I said. “I know it’s your job to serve me…but I don’t like barking orders around as if I’m some noble brat.”

“You were worried about your shield-brother,” he pointed out. “It was the right time to give orders.”

“So long as he is well now,” I conceded, “that’s all that matters. Anyhow, I meant to ask, how long until the stew is ready?”

“Another forty-five minutes.”

“Excellent,” I said. “Thank you as always, Argis. Your work never goes unnoticed.

“Thank you. Yours neither.”

Figuring I should return to Vilkas, I went back to my room. I was about to make a comment about how the stew would be ready shortly, but stopped at the threshold. He was fast asleep. It was common for those who received extensive restoration to sleep often, so I knew better than to interrupt his rest. He looked so peaceful. Still, a terrible feeling lingered in my gut. _This is ridiculous_ , I told myself. _He’s fine_. I approached his bedside and watched for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It wasn’t enough. Grabbing the handheld mirror from my drawer, I placed it right underneath his nose. The glass fogged underneath. _No, I can’t do this to myself,_ I thought. _He’s fine. I need to stay distracted while he’s asleep. I can come back for supper later._

I left Vilkas resting and went to my alchemy lab. _Blue mountain flower and wheat to fortify health. I’ll add vanilla or something to make it taste better_ , I thought. My hands shook as I grabbed the ingredients out of my shelves and cabinets. I had to calm down now. This wasn’t doing anyone any good. Not me. Not Vilkas. Nobody. He was alive, that was all that mattered. I brought a trembling hand to my face and felt the dampness of my own tears. How was it that I had allowed myself to care about someone so much?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Two more chapters, coming your way!  
> The following chapter has been modified from when it was originally posted on August 21. See chapter one clarification.

_Turdas, 9th day of Rain’s Hand, 4E 202_

My life was undoubtedly strange, even in those strange times. Eight months ago, I was carted to Helgen with my hands bound in ropes. My arrest had been a mistake. I was no Stormcloak, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That hadn’t stopped the Imperials from getting their hands on me, or trying to execute me. Had it not been for the appearance of that dragon, I would have ended up just like the Falmer: decapitated and left to rot. It was a stroke of luck that I followed Hadvar and that he, along with his uncle Alvor and his aunt Sigrid, had been willing to give me some sort of shelter, even if it had been for a short while.

Then came the dragon at Whiterun where I was first called “dragonborn,” or dovahkiin. It had been no simple conquest, yet I could see everyone’s eyes light up in awe and wonder. I cannot credit that victory as being my own, of course. Had it not been for Balgruuf’s men, I would have never survived the encounter. The strangest thing had happened then. I could see wispy threads of silver coming towards me. Everyone had seen it, but what they didn’t see, or couldn’t see, was the strange feeling that came with that silver breeze. It was the feeling of sun hitting your skin after a long and difficult winter, the crisp and sweet breath of spring with the radiance of summer. That was what it was absorbing a dragon’s soul. An astute guard was the one who called me “dragonborn.” Even since that moment, I had become Thane of Whiterun, an honorary title, but one I held dearly.

Life settled since then. My first few weeks in Skyrim had been a flurry of commotion and adaptation…and then all was quiet again, as if nothing had happened. No more mentions of dragons, the talk of needing a Dragonborn slowly ebbing away from everyday conversation. I found myself in a place that wasn’t High Rock living a life I didn’t quite expect. I became an adventurer and a mother, two of the many things I hadn’t anticipated nearly eight months earlier.

One night, when I was back home in Whiterun, I took the girls to visit Amren, Saffir, and Braith. Amren had been one of the first individuals in Whiterun to make me feel welcome. We both knew what it was to be away from our homes and to be strangers in a strange place. I had also helped him retrieve his family’s sword, something that he remained very grateful for. He and Saffir had gone out of their way for us by preparing fresh salmon steaks and grilled leaks, with some sweet rolls for dessert. I could see Sofie’s face light up when she saw the sweet rolls, but I reminded her, as I often did, with a swift look that told her to wait it out.

The girls drew their wooden swords and began sparring. We grinned looking at them. If I took my chances, Braith would undoubtedly follow her father’s footsteps in some capacity…the girl had spunk to her, certainly. My girls had both expressed an interest in learning swordsmanship and I could picture both doing well. They often sparred with each other at home. If we survived the war, perhaps Amren, Saffir, and I could see them grow up into questing companions.

“Were you like them at your age?” Saffir asked.

“Ah me?” I said. “No. I never touched a blade before I entered Skyrim.”

“Really?” Amren asked. “What were you meant to be?”

“A healer, actually,” I mused. “My mother was an alchemist and my father specialized in restoration. I suppose they’re the reason I hoard so many health potions.”

“Surely they know you’re alive?” Saffir inquired.

“Divines only know that. They died shortly before I came to Skyrim,” I said. “But neither of them were fighters. Sure they knew their way around a dagger, but not much more than that.”

“I’ve seen you around steel,” Amren told me. “You hold battleaxe as if you had been doing it your whole life.”

It may have seemed like it to him, but it hadn’t been that simple. My mind flashed back to Hadvar offering me imperial steel. I remember my grip feeling so clumsy on the blade. It felt too heavy and my whole body felt off balance. It was a miracle I fended off that bear at Helgen, or even that I escaped. Hadvar was nice enough to pretend that I knew what I was doing, but I clearly didn’t. I certainly had no real confidence to claim that I understood what I was doing with a blade once I was in Riverwood and, perhaps foolishly, agreed to help Lucan Valerius retrieve his golden claw from Bleak Falls Barrow.

It was then that I had my first experience with bandits. Save the bear at Helgen, it had been the first time I had taken a life. I hadn’t wanted to kill anyone at first, not truly. My father had always told me I had a way with words when I wanted to. No one would listen to me there. I was an intruder and I needed to be dealt with accordingly. I refused to surrender without a fight. It was there, though, I discovered my first battleaxe. It was heavy in my hands and I probably looked like a child holding their first wooden sword, but it felt different. My strikes were sloppy and I had no conception of blocking, but I was lucky. It was with that I took down those bandits and my first giant frostbite spider.

Those moments. That rush. It was something I never felt as a healer. There, in the thick of warding off bandits and attempting to kill a large spider, it was as if I had found the thing I was searching for my entire life. My parents had never told me that combat could be thrilling. We were healers. We prolonged lives and we served others. We didn’t inflict wounds, we fixed them. We could watch skin patch almost instantaneously and bring people back from the brink of death, and watch their faces flush to life. That changed the moment the axe sliced through the first bandit’s skin and I could see his pallid face hitting the floor. The look on Lucan’s face when I brought back the claw was nearly worth it. I had done a service for him. The coin was nice, granted, and it paid for my mead at the inn.

I remember Hadvar joining me that night at the Sleeping Giant’s Inn. He sighed and sat next to me. Whether he had sighed or not, I would have known what he was thinking. He had an earnest face, his brown eyes holding no malice. That thought had dawned on me even at my near execution in Helgen. The Imperial captain showed no mercy, but he did. He was helpless against the Empire’s orders and I knew it. That he assisted me escaping from Helgen showed me I was right. No matter what the outcome of the war, I would always owe him my life. He and Alvor had been kind to me. Such acts are not easily forgotten.

“What troubles you, friend?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same,” I said.

“Ladies first?” he suggested.

I chuckled. “I’m no lady, Hadvar. Perhaps a criminal that barely escaped Helgen, but no great lady.”

He gave me a small smile here. “Escaped criminals first then.”

“You heard that I helped Lucan?” I asked.

“Of course. He wouldn’t stop going on about the Breton who retrieved his claw for him. Seeing as we have no other Bretons in Riverwood, I assumed it was you.”

“Right. It was nice to help him out,” I said.

“But?”

“I killed people to do it,” I said.

“How else would you have done it, Anyaie?”

I remained silent here and shrugged. Surely I could have persuaded them had I tried. Lies, I thought. Which bandit would listen to reason when I had clearly trespassed? I was armed and I knew what I was getting myself into. Even if I had bribed them with the few septims I had or intimidated them, there would have been no guarantee they would have agreed or kept their word. I agreed to take on that mission knowing that blood would be drawn. Hadvar was right: there had been no other way.

“This is life in Skyrim. It’s short and bloody,” he said. “Why did you offer to get the claw anyhow?”

A loaded question with no easy answer. The easy answer would have just been to say that it was out of the goodness of my heart…if I wanted to sound arrogant anyhow. My own sense of honor? Did I have the right to that being an escaped criminal? No. None of those answers rang true.

“I wanted to,” I admitted. “It felt like the right thing to do.”

“Ask yourself why it felt right,” he said. “When you have your answer, it’ll make it easier to lift that…is that a battleaxe?”

“I took it off a bandit,” I confided.

“Huh. Do you actually know how to use it?” he asked.

“Of course not,” I said.

He gulped down the rest of his ale here. “Meet me outside where the training dummies are. If you’re going to leave for Whiterun eventually, you will need to have a sense of what to do with that thing.”

_Hadvar must have done something right_ , I thought to myself, especially if Amren thought I was such a natural.

“I had a good friend teach me,” I told Amren. “Otherwise, I would likely still be blundering around with a sword. I must have been a sight to behold.”

“We all are our first time,” Amren said. “There is a difference between you and I though.”

“Which is?” I asked. “One of us fights for coin. The other fights for honour,” he said.

“Honor is a bit of a stretch,” I told him.

He grinned here. “A shame you aren’t a knight. Although I don’t understand why you haven’t joined the Companions yet.”

I sipped at my wine here. “How many times have I told you? The Companions wouldn’t have me.”

“Bull _shit_ ,” he told me.

“Language!” Saffir hissed. “It’s bad enough your daughter has threatened to beat up _every_ child in Whiterun once.”

“Bull…dung…” he said. “With your ability to wield that axe? Ah, come on. You have a talent. At the very least they could offer you training.”

“MAMA! BRAITH IS A BIG MEANIE! I DON’T WANT TO PLAY WITH HER ANYMORE!” a voice shouted.

“What did I tell you, Amren? Your daughter is an absolute terror to society!” Saffir grumbled.

“Let me deal with it,” I said.

I found the children in Braith’s bedroom. Lucia held a broken wooden sword in her hand and…so did the other two. It took me everything not to pinch the bridge of my nose. _Take a deep breath and resolve it like an adult_ , I told myself. _One…two…three…okay_.

“What happened here?” I demanded.

My daughter, Lucia, was an Imperial girl. We met when I first came to Whiterun and she was begging for septims. There was something about her that caught my attention. Not insofar as her appearance; she was every bit an Imperial with her olive complexion, coarse black hair, and dark eyes. It was her tone. Determined to survive and determined to beat the odds. The local drunk, Brenuin, had taken some pity on her, but the girl wanted more and I knew it. The moment I became a thane I took her in as my daughter. Since then, she retained her stubbornness.

“Braith broke Sofie’s sword in a fight,” Lucia said. “So I broke hers and then…she broke mine.”

“Braith,” I sighed. “Why did you break Sofie’s sword?”

I never could figure out who Braith was more of, Saffir or Amren. She looked like she could have been Saffir’s double, yet there was something about her, perhaps her expression, that reminded me of Amren in combat. She had her mother’s resilience and her father’s lust for battle…even at this young age. _She could make a fine warrior one day, if only they hone her energy_ , I thought. But right now….Braith was a menace. I had much love for Amren and Saffir, but she was absolutely intolerable. I knew this girl and I knew my own girls. So I knew even before Braith opened her mouth that something had provoked her.

“Because she was makin’ fun of me again!” Braith said, pointing at Sofie.

Sofie looked nothing like Lucia. With her fair hair and her eyes the colour of rock warbler eggs, she looked every bit a Nord. When I found the girl in Windhelm, she was selling flowers. She had been emaciated then, barely managing to sustain herself on her scarce daily earnings. Even now, despite all the sweet rolls Lydia fed her despite me telling her not to indulge her because I am the one who needs to deal with the aftermath, she retained a slight frame. Where Lucia was brazen, Sofie was quiet…which made her “tempers” even worse than her sister’s. I had little doubt Sofie had said something to upset Braith; that all too innocent look on her face never fooled me.

“Sofie,” I sighed. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing mama. I just said she had a crush on Lars,” Sofie admitted, as succinctly as ever.

“IT’S NOT TRUE!” Braith shouted.

“And you broke her sword because of that?” I demanded.

“BECAUSE YOUR DAUGHTER IS A MEANIE!” Braith continued.

“And I guess you were defending your sister and broke the sword?” I said to Lucia, genuinely trying to keep the sigh out of my voice. “And then she broke your sword.”

“I HATE THEM AND…”

“Enough,” I said, and I could hear the bits of my thu’um edging into my voice. The room shook a bit. The girls must have heard this too because Braith quieted immediately. _I really do need to learn how to control that_ , I thought.

“You will all apologize to each other,” I ordered. “Sofie, there was no reason to pick on Braith. Lucia, you shouldn’t have broken Braith’s sword and…Braith. There are better ways to react than anger.”

“You ain’t the boss of me!” Braith said.

“Ah, but I am,” Saffir said. “And I think you owe Sofie and Lucia and apology for breaking their swords.”

Braith grumbled something that sounded like an apology. Yet would you believe despite the argument that they all complained when we told them it was time to go home and sleep? Amren, Saffir, and I never quite understood it. For as much as they would complain…try tearing them apart. All three of them become monsters, especially when they’re tired.

Sofie, for her part, was exhausted being an instigator. I put her on my back and grabbed Lucia’s hand. We took the bag with the broken swords; I would see if I could salvage them.

Right before I left, however, Amren said one last thing.

“Consider the Companions,” he said. “You are better than just being some wandering thane. You are the dragonborn. If anyone could join them, it’s you.”

“Amren…”

“Consider it. If it is something you truly don’t want, I’ll never bring it up again.”

“I…”

He gave me a sharp look. If I brushed him off, I knew he would go on for longer. I found myself letting out a sigh of resignation and saying, “Alright. I will _consider_ it. I said _consider_. Don’t forget those words, you stubborn cow.”

“Now that’s what I thought you’d say. Sleep well. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

I returned to my home with my girls. After a stern lecture and apologies from both of them, they quickly got ready for bed. They were wise enough not to ask me to stay up later…as they so often did.

“Goodnight, Lucia,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Sleep tight.”

“Night Mama,” she yawned.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I went to see Sofie now, who I found was reading a book in bed. I had to suppress a grin. I should have figured she would try and sneak in a book before bed.

“Bed time, snowberry,” I ordered.

“Alright Mama,” she said, and placed the book near her bedside table. _Legends for Nord Children_ , it read.

“New book?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, yawning.

“Tell me about it in the morning over breakfast,” I said. “Sleep now. Goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

I pressed a kiss onto her forehead and was just about to close the door when she said, “Ysgramor, Mama. That’s who I’m reading about.”

It took me everything not to swear at Amren for being a clever bastard. Despite his insistence, the matter still wasn’t settled in my mind. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t thought of it before, neither was Amren the first one to suggest joining the Companions. I often shrugged such a point off; whenever the idea became desirable, something held me back.

Once I was upstairs, I knocked on my housecarl’s door. A woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes greeted me. Balgruuf had glowingly recommended Lydia when I became a thane of Whiterun. In the months that I had known her, she had accompanied me on several adventures and proved herself a worthy companion. Not to mention she always ensured the children were taken care of when I was adventuring in other holds. The girls were fond of her and referred to her as their “Aunt Lydia.”

“Long life to you, my thane,” Lydia said.

“Long life to you, Lydia,” I greeted back. “How are you faring?”

“Well as always. How was dinner at Amren and Saffir’s?”

“Fine, I suppose. The girls broke each other’s wooden swords, so I will eventually have to see to replacing those,” I sighed.

“But something else troubles you.” 

“It’s nothing of any relevance,” I assured her.

“My thane…”

“Anyaie,” I reminded her. “You are my equal and my peer in every regard.”

“Then trust that you can talk to me and that I will assist you,” she urged.

There was an earnestness to Lydia I found in few people that I had met throughout my time in Skyrim. It was easy to see why Balgruuf had suggested her as my housecarl. There was not a day since working for me that I had been skeptical of Lydia’s intentions. This woman had pledged herself to my service and had proved herself time and time again. Though she was sworn to assist me, I never felt right burdening her with my thoughts or problems. Our conversations had always been limited and superficial, but she was not one to share her thoughts often. That night was an exception.

“If you’re sure,” I said. “What do you know about the Companions?” 

“They function as a warrior guild,” she said. “Like mercenaries, but with a code of honor. It’s considered a great privilege to be a part of their ranks. Children here grow up hearing about the legendary tales of Ysgamor and the Five Hundred Companions. Wait, were you considering joining them?”

“Amren seems to think I should…though, I doubt it.”

“Someone of your calibre should join,” she said. “Besides, you are the dragonborn. They must have heard about you.”

“Perhaps the Thieves Guild has heard of me. Certainly they’re clamouring for me,” I mumbled.

Lydia’s lips quirked upwards here as she said, “You have the stealth of a mammoth.” 

I snorted here. “I’m no mage or assassin either… I suppose a warrior’s guild would work.”

But the question wasn’t about whether or not I could be a warrior. Whatever I was, I certainly did it well enough to get by. I had my battleaxe, my armour, and access to a forge to create my own weapons when the ones I found failed me, or when I wanted to make some extra septims.

“Then what is it that bothers you so much about the Companions?” Lydia asked.

“The question of…honor,” I said.

“You think you’re _dishonorable_?” Lydia said with the closest thing I had ever heard to a scoff.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m no great warrior. I fight decently. I do what I believe is right. But to call that honor? It seems unlikely.”

Silence.

“Whenever I swing my axe, I feel powerful,” I said. “It even feels…right. But…I still question if that who I am supposed to be. As if...this isn't me.”

My life had been simple before my arrest. I spent my days in my small village in High Rock collecting ingredients for my mother and assisting my father with his spells. Even when I heard the legends and songs of heroes, they felt like nothing more than fictions. That was not my life. I was the daughter of the Sylanittes, their only child, in fact. No one expected anything more than me than to perhaps continue the family’s business at best. At the very minimum, I would meet a decent Breton, get married, and adopt children. Joining the Companions meant committing to what I had become, or pretending I was something I was still not sure I was: a warrior.

“It’s _not_ you?” Lydia inquired, almost incredulously. “My thane…”

“ _Anyaie_ ,” I stressed.

“ _My thane_ ,” Lydia said, “This is not your life in High Rock anymore. You’ve been given a chance to be something other than what you were meant to be. Why would you not be pleased?”

“Because…” I waved my hand to motion towards the room and all its furnishings. “Months ago, I was no thane. I was _nobody_. The people of Whiterun wouldn’t have given a skeever’s ass about me. And yet…this life? It feels right…even _too right_. Yet it shouldn’t be. This wasn’t who I was meant to be and yet it’s who I _wan t_ to be. What makes me worthy, Lydia?”

But there was more that Lydia couldn’t understand. Sometimes I still remember that feeling of waking up on the cart to Helgen. My life could change that drastically in the blink of an eye again. All that I had worked so hard to achieve, it could crumble right before me. Even if I didn’t deserve it, it had been mine. How was it possible to want something or have something so badly, but also be so scared to lose it at the same time? It felt like too much and…

“You are certainly not a nobody,” Lydia corrected. “And you know that all too well, Anyaie. You struggle because you feel unworthy, yet you’ve proven time and time again that’s not true. The title of thane? Your victories? _You_ accomplished them. _You_.

“I…”

“With all due respect, let me finish,” she said. “You are a woman guided by honor, but you’re too scared to admit it because you feel you have no claim to it. Yet, every time I have seen you interacting with others, you have strove to do right by them and yourself. I know you question yourself, but I don’t. I would _never_ have put myself in your service otherwise.”

“I never knew you felt that way,” I said, unsure of what else I could tell her.

“Well, I do,” she said. She laid a hand on my shoulder. “The Divines brought you to Skyrim for a purpose. If that is to be a warrior, you have to honor that path. Let go of your notions of who you were and come to accept who you are.”

She knew how to be persuasive when she needed to be. That damned feeling of hope swelled to my breast. _Enough_ , I told it, but didn’t go away. There would be more time to process everything Lydia told me. One thing was certain: it made my path clearer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter has been modified from when it was originally posted on August 21. See chapter one clarification.

_Fredas, 10 thday of Rain’s Hand, 4E 202_

The first thing I noticed about Jorrvaskr was that the roof resembled the bottom of a longboat. The hull, or what would have been the hull, had several missing pieces of wood, though the shields around the edge of the boat still retained their hue. The structure upholding the ship was entirely made of wood and formed the walls of the famed mead hall. I felt smaller and smaller as I approached Jorrvaskr’s step, no small feat considering my height.

_Am I truly doing this?_ I wondered. How many people had crossed through those doors demanding to be made a Companion? _Perhaps I’ll be the first dragonborn to both ask to become a Companion and be rejected by them_ , I thought. _Some legacy that would leave_. I took another step and continued to go up. They were glorified mercenaries, no better or no worse than Amren or myself, I told myself. Every step became a little easier until I pushed the doors of the mead hall open.

There was something electric in the air, a tension that crackled and burned like the fire pit at the center of the hall. Despite how old I presumed it was, the entire place was immaculately kept. The banquet table had place settings that were expertly arranged and not a single thing appeared out of order. On the right side of the hall was a set of stairs with what I presumed led to some sort of basement, but what caught my attention was the left wall, which was adorned with several different weapons. 

“Those two are at it again?” somebody asked, breaking my stream of thoughts.

It didn’t take me long to see two people locked in a brawl; a Nord woman and a dark elf. The woman was surprisingly petite, a trait not typical of Nords, yet she quickly and skillfully dodged the dark elf’s punches. She had quite a hook too, managing to punch his jaw. The dark elf, for his part, was not so easily stunned. He hissed in pain, but threw another punch and set the Nord woman back a little. For a moment, the woman and I locked gazes. Her amber colored eyes burned with determination. She wouldn’t lose. Just as the dark elf thought he had his advantage, she swiftly delivered an uppercut right to his face. The whole room winced in pain and the dark elf clung on to his nose. With that, it was over. The few people who had watched dispersed, leaving the woman and the elf alone.

“Remember that the next time you think of challenging me,” the Nord woman said. Her voice had a lilt to it that would have almost been pleasant if not for the sheer fire that simmered underneath them.

“Until next time,” the dark elf mumbled as she walked away.

I was about to make my way towards the elf until I crashed into someone.

“Hey! Watch it there!” someone hissed.

The first thing that hit me was the undeniable pungent scent of ale. The sun hadn’t even risen for a good chunk of the day. A shame that was the first thing I noticed about him because he had better features, none that included the wafting scent of alcohol that clung to him. He had that youthful complexion without necessarily looking boyish, probably because of his golden beard. His eyes were the color of mountain flowers, but they were glazed and he had dark circles under them. _Is this who they allow into the Companions?_ I wondered, and questioned whether my anxiousness about joining had been worth it.

“Pardon me,” I said.

“Wait, I haven’t seen you before. Have I? Have we met?” he asked, genuinely concerned. _By the Divines, he’s drunker than a skeever swimming in a vat of ale_ , I though.

“I’m sorry if I’ve forgotten,” he said, then hiccupped.

“We’ve never met,” I assured him.

“Right, right. I’m Torvar,” he said, though I had no confidence he would remember that the next day. “What brings you to Jorrvaskr? The glory? The septims? The mead?”

“I wish to join the Companions,” I said. “Who’s in charge around here?”

“In charge of what? I’m in charge of me, and you’re in charge of you. If you’re looking to join up, Kodlak’s the one to be talking to.”

“And where would I find Kodlak?” I asked.

“Somewhere,” Torvar said, shrugging. “Now if you excuse me, my hangover is wearing off and I have to go fix it.”

“Right.”

“See ya around maybe!” he shouted.

Who was Kodlak? The name sounded male, but it could have been the dark elf or the Nord woman for all I knew. I turned to look around the mead hall to see if anyone else was around who could help out. No one sat around the table and the building seemed empty. I even looked for the elf to see if I could offer him assistance, but he was nowhere to be found. I did notice that there were stairs that presumably led to a basement. Those were likely living quarters. _Surely there must be somebody who knows where I can find Kodlak_ , I thought.

“A new face,” a kindly voice said. “I take it you’re here to join?”

The voice came from an elderly woman. Although she was nowhere near as short as the woman who had fought the dark elf, I was still a good head a half taller than her. She was quite thin, and I could see her bones protruding when I looked down to her wrists. Even with that, she didn’t exude the frailty that some did when they reached their twilight years. Perhaps that’s what years of serving warriors will do to you.

“Yes,” I said. “I was told to speak to Kodlak, good woman.”

“No need to call me that. I’m Tilma,” she said. “I’ll bring you to the Harbinger.”

“That would be much appreciated. Thank you,” I said.

I followed Tilma down the stairs and to the wooden doors of the living quarters.

“And you, stranger? Who are you?” she asked.

“A hopeful Companion, I suppose,” I said.

She chuckled here and said, “Mysterious. I’ll find out your name soon enough, especially if you’ll be joining.”

“If I am,” I said.

“I’ve seen many faces pass through this hall,” she said. “I know who stays and who doesn’t. I’m a betting woman. Ten septims says you’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Is that an actual bet?” I asked.

“But of course,” she said.

“Very confident,” I noted. “I promise I’ll pay you tomorrow, if I should still be here.”

“Not if, dearie. When,” she said. “Now, if you go straight ahead, you should be able to find Kodlak.”

“Thank you, Tilma,” I said.

“Don’t thank me, young one. Just be sure to bring me my septims tomorrow.”

She gave me one last kind smile and took her leave. Though I no longer considered myself a complete stranger to Skyrim, entering Jorrvaskr still gave me that feeling of being unknown. It was nice to find a friendly face, no matter how fleeting that moment was.

I continued down the hallway. The living quarters looked like much of Whiterun’s basements: stone walls, torches, and a couple of decorations here and there to make it look pleasant. Granted, it felt sort of home-like. Undoubtedly if Kodlak, or whoever was in charge, decided I was worthy, I would likely have to take up residence here for a time. It would be odd considering I technically had Breezehome and my children. _Do not mention the girls_ , I thought to myself. _The less they all know about me, the better._

As I came closer to the door, I began to hear voices.

“But I still hear the call of the blood,” a voice said.

“We all do. It is our burden to bear, but we must overcome it,” another voice replied. This one sounded older than the previous one.

This was not a conversation I was meant to listen to and the thought of eavesdropping, especially as an introduction, did not settle well with me. If I was to join the Companions, I would not do so by listening to their secrets. Those were not my place to know, the same way that they wouldn’t know mine. 

“You have my brother and I, obviously. But I don’t know if the rest will go along with it quite so easily,” the first voice said.

“Leave that to me.”

I knocked before the conversation could go any further than that.

“Come in,” the second voice called.

I opened the door to what I realized would have been Kodlak’s quarters. There were shelves filled with books, ingredients, and the typical Nordic vases and silverware. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought the room belonged to a scholar, save the warhammer that was propped up in the left corner closest to the entrance.

Sitting at the table in the far right corner of the room were two men. The younger of the two looked as though he was my senior by a couple of years, the older of the two by a couple of decades. The older man’s face made an expression that I couldn’t quite understand, but it vanished so quickly that I thought I had imagined it. This man was Kodlak, I was sure. The younger man was another story. He had all the beauty and sharpness of a glass sword. If I had detected any ease or vulnerability in his voice earlier, it vanished as soon as he turned his gaze on me.

“A stranger comes to our hall,” the older man said. “Speak, lass. Who are you and what business do you have here?”

“I am an adventurer,” I claimed.

“As usual,” the younger man scoffed. “Another ambitious visitor. Let me guess. You think you can just wander in here and join us?” 

“My name is Anyaie Sylanitte. I’m from High Rock,” I continued, choosing to directly address the older man. “My travels happened to take me to Whiterun. I thought I would take this chance to express my interest in joining the Companions.”

“Would you now?” the Kodlak said. “Here, let me have a look at you.”

I stepped closer to him. This was not the look of a leery or lecherous old man, but genuine curiosity. If Tilma’s words were to be trusted, many faces entered and left the mead hall with very few accomplishing what they sought to do. What would he see if he looked into my face? Would he be able to tell that I had been lying about my background, or that I had failed to mention I was the dragonborn and a thane of the hold? He simply nodded.

“Hm. Yes. Perhaps. A certain strength of spirit,” he noted.

“Master, you’re truly not considering accepting her?” the younger man demanded.

“I am nobody’s master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts.”

“Apologies,” Vilkas said. “But perhaps this isn’t the time. I’ve never even heard of this outsider.”

The words took me off guard and I hoped the surprise didn’t show on my face. While I didn’t expect the vast majority of Skyrim to know my name and associate it to being the dragonborn, I was certain that at least most people in Whiterun would have known who I was. Surely if they didn’t know about my _thu’um_ , they might have known I was a thane. Vilkas’ voice spoke no lie though. He _didn’t_ know me. If Kodlak did, he made no indication of it.

“Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference,” Kodlak responded. “What matters is their heart.”

Perhaps what was in my heart was precisely my issue.

“And their arm,” Vilkas added.

Also potentially an issue.

“Of course. How are you in battle, girl?” Kodlak asked.

“I can handle myself,” I answered.

“That may be so. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm. Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do.”

“Aye,” he said.

He stood up here and walked past me without a second glance.

“Come now,” he ordered.

He said nothing else to me along the walk back upstairs and into the yard. The yard, as Kodlak called it, consisted of a porch that had several chairs and a table with some food and refreshments. It was a cozy space and I noticed several of the Companions sat around it, talking. If any of them had noticed me, they paid me no mind. I walked down the steps and into the training area of the yard, which consisted of several training dummies lined up along Whiterun’s wall.

Vilkas grabbed a shield and a sword here. He finally turned to me and said, “The old man said to have a look at you, so let’s do this.”

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

“Just have a few swings so I can see your form.”

I reached for my battleaxe, but stopped for a moment. However aloof he had been, I didn’t want to injure him. It was one thing doing this in the middle of a fight. It was another thing being asked to perform an action on cue.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” he said.

I took a deep breath and drew my axe. He immediately drew his sword and waited for me to make the first move. _Pretend he is a wolf. A vicious and dangerous wolf_ , I thought. I swung the battleaxe at his shield. His feet remained firmly planted on the ground. I brought the axe back down to the shield again, yet he was still rooted in place. _Divines damn it_ , I thought. _There’s no way they’ll ever have me at this rate._ I took one more swing, but to no effect. He tossed the shield aside here.

“One more thing,” he said. “I want you to fight me.”

“Fight you?” I repeated.

“You heard me right the first time. Fight me.”

I wouldn’t best him, I knew that much. This man wanted to see what I could do in a fight? That was no problem. If I was going to be rejected from the Companions, I would do so on my own terms. This time I didn’t hesitate to lift my axe. He never picked up the shield again, but came charging at me with his sword. Despite being in heavy armour, plate by the look of it, he moved with quickness and speed that, up until that moment, I had never seen rivalled. In one swift motion, he brought his sword down to meet my axe and I only barely managed to block it. He moved his sword forward, trying to make me lose my grip. I dug my feet onto the ground. He was strong. Not surprising, but it didn’t make this any easier. Using whatever strength I could muster, I pushed him off of me.

I took that small moment, barely a window of a few seconds, and swung the axe low. It didn’t quite hit his hip, but a bit lower. It wasn’t enough to have done any substantial damage either, just enough knock him off his balance a bit. My instinct, in any other fight, would have been to use my _thu’um_ and stun him temporarily. _That’s not the point_ , I reminded myself. He recovered quickly and swung his sword at me again. This time, both our blades clashed. For a moment, it almost felt as though we were evenly matched, until he managed to push my axe and I away.

“Not bad,” he commented, lowering his sword. “Next time won’t be so easy. You might just make it. But for now, you’re still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you.”

“What would you have me do?” I asked, sensing an order.

“Here’s my sword,” he said, giving me the weapon. “Go take it Eorlund to have it sharpened.

“As you command,” I said.

“And be careful, it’s probably worth more than you are,” he added as he walked away.

He was already being insufferable. Perhaps I should have responded with something equally as surly, but I was too stunned to reply. I was going to become a member of the Companions, not his new squire. Then again, it may as well have been the same thing at that point. Being the newest recruit meant getting the brunt of the errands. He started earlier than anyone else had. I would do it, if only to shut him up. I already knew it wouldn’t be the last moment that he infuriated me. 

Skyforge was one of the mysteries of Jorrvaskr; no one knew who originally built it, though it had remained the place where the Companions crafted their steel. It was a strange location with an odd stone sculpture of a bird, likely an eagle. Even so, there was something that was almost thrilling about the atmosphere. Years of history probably, or some other sentimental explanation.

Working the forge was a stocky man with long silvery white hair. Throughout my time in Whiterun, I had only seen this man in passing, but I knew precisely who he was. Whatever side of the civil war people felt on, they all complimented Eorlund Gray-Mane’s work. He crafted the finest weapons in Skyrim, some would even say in Tamriel. I had only started smithing at that point, nothing more than leather armour, some jewellery, and a couple of iron greatswords here and there. Just as Adrianne Avenicci did, I would never claim to be as good as Eorlund, though we could both aspire to match his standards. He turned to me now.

“What brings you here?” he asked.

“Vilkas sent me with his sword,” I answered.

“I’m guessing you’re the newcomer then?” he asked, his voice tinged with some amusement.

“A fair guess,” I answered.

“Planning to be the next errand girl?”

“No. I’m just doing what I’m asked,” I replied, realizing how stupid the words sounded as they came out of my mouth.

“That attitude would get you far, if we were some stuffy merchant or Jarl’s footstool. Around here, you’ll want to learn to live your own life,” he said.

_How can I do that when it’s been made very clear to me that my fate resides in everyone else’s hands?_ I thought.

As if sensing what I was thinking, Eorlund added, “Remember, nobody rules anybody in the Companions.”

“Someone has to be in charge, though,” I told him.

“Well, I’m not sure how they’ve managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he’s sort of an advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman her own.”

_Wouldn’t that have been lovely to know earlier_ , I thought.

“And you? Are you a Companion?” I asked.

“Not actually a Companion myself, but none of them know how to work a forge properly, and I'm honored to serve them. My name is Eorlund Gray-Mane. I work the Skyforge. Best steel in all of Skyrim. All of Tamriel. You are?”

“Anyaie Sylanitte.”

“Thane of Whiterun and the legendary dragonborn?” he asked.

“Well…yes, but…” I started.

“Don’t worry, lass. Your secret is safe with me,” he said. “The Companions have many strong suits. Keeping up with local gossip is not one of them.”

It was a strange relief. It was bad enough being an outsider. Being an outsider that tried to flaunt their titles was pretentious. The burden of proving myself wouldn’t be alleviated so easily, but anonymity afforded me less expectations and more freedom. If was new blood, as Vilkas had called me, I would act like it. The less they knew about me, the better. 

“Thank you,” I said. “Anything I can do for you in return?”

“I do have a favour to ask.

“What is it?”

“I’ve been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I’d be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me.”

“I’m happy to lend a hand,” I said.

“That’s a good lass. Well done,” he said.

_Now that was a painless way to give an order_ , I thought. As I made my way back down to the hall, I wondered what the other Companions would be like. Two of them had brawled, one of them was drunk out of his mind, another was arrogant, and the one I liked, Kodlak, seemed decent. Glory and gold brought forward different personalities. It would be a question of how I fit in, if I did.

Most of everyone appeared to be either in the yard, or in the hall itself, so I made my way down to the living quarters again. Once I was down there, I thought I heard two voices: one belonging to a man, and one belonging to a woman. I took my chances and decided to see if she was Aela. As I approached the pair, I could hear their conversation.

“She managed to knock him off balance,” I heard the man say.

“She sounds impressive,” the woman answered.

I cleared my throat as I entered to alert them to my presence and the pair turned their attention to me. The woman reminded me of the legends I had heard of female Nord warriors; she wore ancient Nord armor which, though would have likely looked terrible and out-dated on a great deal of people, fit her perfectly. She was certainly a Nord herself, though she had russet coloured hair and green eyes, an uncommon combination for most. The man next to her looked to be about Kodlak’s age, if not slightly younger, with thinning grey hair. His face wasn’t unfriendly necessarily, just reserved. Divines knew how many people _he_ had seen leave and enter this hall.

“State your business,” the man said.

“I’m here to deliver a shield for Aela,” I said.

“Right here. Thank you for delivering this to me,” she said, grabbing it from me. She took a moment to admire it. “Excellent work from Eorlund as always and…you’re new here.”

“Yes. I was recruited today,” I said.

“I told you, this is the whelp that Vilkas mentioned,” the man said, and the reservation on his face left in instants. _So they were talking about me_ , I thought.

“Ah, yes,” the woman said. “I heard you gave him quite a thrashing.”

“Don’t let Vilkas catch you saying that,” the man warned.

“Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?” she asked me.

_No, woman. It was sheer luck that I managed to accomplish anything the first time around,_ I thought.

“I don’t care for boasting,” I said.

“Ah, a woman of action. Well. It’s good to meet you. This is Skjor,” she said, motioning to the man next to her.

"Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Likewise. Not everyday we hear of a whelp who manages to ruffle Vilkas.”

I shrugged. “It was nothing.”

“And she’s modest too,” Aela observed. “Here, let’s have Farkas show you where you’ll be resting your head.”

“Farkas!” Skjor bellowed.

For one moment, my ire was about to shine through whatever good manners I had. _Surely this is Vilkas and they are just playing a joke_ , I thought. Upon a closer look at him, I noticed that I was wrong. His hair and his beard were longer than his Vilkas’ and though they shared the same hawkish nose and blue eyes, Farkas lacked the arrogance his brother did. Admittedly, he was equally as handsome, if not more so since he didn’t have a scowl etched onto his face. That was when the realization hit me. _By the Nine Divines…there are_ ** _two_** _of them._

“Did you call me?” he asked.

“Of course we did, icebrain. Show this newblood where the rest of the whelps sleep,” Aela ordered.

“New blood?” he asked, then noticed me. “Oh, hello. I’m Farkas. Come, follow me.”

As we walked, I asked, “Icebrain?”

He shrugged here. “I don’t mind it. Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they are good people. Besides, they challenge all of us to be our best.”

Farkas turned to me and offered me a small, but sweet, smile. “Nice to have a new face around. It gets boring here sometimes. I just hope we can keep you. This can be a rough life.”

“Keep me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “We always test new recruits for the first couple of months. They can take on jobs here and there, get some training, you know, small stuff like that to see how they adapt to life here. To become a part of the Companions, every recruit is given a task to prove their honour and their worth. Get through that and you’ll be considered a part of our ranks.”

“Sounds…straightforward.”

“It is, but you’d be surprised how many we lose along the way.” 

Unsure of what else I could possibly tell him, we remained in silence until he motioned to where I would be sleeping.

“And….here we are,” he announced. “Just pick a bed and fall into it when you’re tired. Tilma will keep the place clean. She always has. Do you need help or are you good from here?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I said. “I don’t have much to put away anyhow.”

“Then that settles it. Come to me or Aela if you're looking for work. Once you've made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor and Vilkas might have things for you to do. Good luck. Welcome to the Companions,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said.

“No need to thank me…uh. Hey. What’s your name again?”

“Anyaie,” I said, smiling despite myself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, same,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

I don’t remember I replied, probably something short or a nod. He was so unlike Vilkas that it was hard to believe they were related, save the fact that they looked almost exactly like each other, or close enough.

So went my first day with the Companions. As I crossed the threshold into the shared quarters, I became distinctly aware that my trial had started.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter contains sexually explicit content. Please read at your discretion.  
> Also, it was edited from its original form on August 26, 2020.

_Mondas, 12 thday of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

Ten fortify health potions, five strengthen stamina elixirs, and two draughts of strength later and the stew was finally ready. I promised myself I would continue with the rest later on. I entered my room again to find Argis serving Vilkas his stew on a tray. He laid mine on the bedside table with a chair pulled up next to it. I thanked him again and took a seat next to Vilkas.

“Good to see you awake,” I told him. “I had the chance to make seventeen potions while you were asleep.”

He was quiet here, but took a bit of his stew. I eyed him for a moment, concerned that he wouldn’t have an appetite. As he took another bite, I eased a bit.

“Your man here knows how to cook,” he said. “He almost puts Tilma to shame, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“I wouldn’t. I’m too fond of the old woman myself,” I chuckled. “Anyhow. Calcelmo did pay us while you were asleep. 1250 septims. Half of that is yours.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t want the gold. It’s…it’s yours.”

“Vilkas,” I said, and set my soup aside. He was about to be stubborn and I knew it.

“Don’t,” he said. “You did everything you could to heal me and succeeded. Now I’m in your home, eating your food, and cleaning you of potion supplies. Please. Take it. It’s the least I can do.”

“No, you earned this,” I told him. “I wouldn’t have been able to get through those ruins without you.”

He grimaced here and I could tell he had already thought of countering me in a thousand ways, until he let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. I’ll take it, but you don’t have to take on the grunt work for the next month.”

I gave him a small smirk. “I’m sure the others will be eager to take on the job.”

“Oh they will,” he said. “And I’m sure that they’ll manage to embarrass us.”

“Have some faith in them,” I said. “You didn’t have any with me and I turned out well enough.”

“No, don’t compare yourself to them.”

"I thought you said I was nothing special,” I reminded him.

"No, you’re different. You always were,” he told me.

The words took me aback. He said them so sincerely too. Even if I wanted to dismiss it as a nicety, I couldn’t, not when this was the same man who was equally as capable of making you shirk away from him with his sharp tongue.

I brought a hand to his forehead.

“No fever,” I noted. “I guess I can’t chalk up your niceness to sickness.”

He smirked here. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“No, but I’ll remind you of those words very frequently,” I said. “Now eat. Your stew will get cold and then you’ll find another reason to complain.”

He rolled his eyes and dug back into the stew. I did the same. As we eased into our meal, my fatigue began to creep in. He must have been feeling it as well because we both remained quiet as we ate. That was something that was nice about Vilkas compared to say, Torvar or Ria. He could handle a peaceful silence. It was one of the things I appreciated about him. I let out a yawn here.

“We should both try to rest soon,” he suggested. “It’s been a long day.”

“An understatement if I’ve heard one.”

“Where will you sleep?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I have two extra beds I can use. I might suggest not sleeping in your armour, though.”

“It would be more comfortable,” he admitted. “If it’s not too much trouble…” 

His voiced trailed off here and I nodded. “It’ll be easier that way.”

He managed to get his gauntlets off with relative ease, but the tricky part was the chest. Placing himself at the edge of the bed, I went behind him and undid the buckles of his armour. _I’ll have to clean his too afterwards_ , I noted. I proceeded to take off the shoulder pieces and the breastplate, revealing the grey gambeson underneath. Not wanting him to bend down, I decided to undo his cuisses, poleyn, and greaves. He was about to let out a word of protest, but I quickly silenced him with a look; I didn’t do this every day and I didn’t plan on starting. These were exceptional measures. I made relatively quick work of the rest and brought it with mine.

“Do you want to remove the rest?” I asked, now sitting next to him.

“There’s no need,” he assured me. “You’ve done enough for one day.”

“Will you rest then?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

“Of course. How else am I supposed to get out of your house?”

“And to think I assumed you’d be grateful,” I snorted.

He took my hand here and gave it a small squeeze. My heart leaped out of my chest for a moment. _Nine Divines. Has it been so long that a man has touched me that anything is enough to set me off?_ I wondered.

“I am grateful,” he assured me.

I didn’t notice how closely we were seated to each other. Despite the dark circles underneath his eyes, they shone. His hand felt warm in mine, and a part of me itched to lace our fingers together. If I wanted to, I could close that gap between us. If I could just reach out and touch his face. _Oh enough_ , I told myself. _You’ve had a long day and now you’re trying to find an outlet for it_. I cleared my throat here and untangled our hands.

“There’s no need,” I said. “I mean it, Vilkas. I could have never survived without you.”

“I can say the same,” he said. “Sleep well.”

“Sleep well,” I echoed, and made my way out of the room.

 _I need to get out for a bit,_ I thought. _What happened in there, it was nothing. I haven’t been with a man since…wait. Was that the last time?_ Nine Divines. If _that_ was the last time, it was no wonder Vilkas’ touch had set me off. Not my proudest moment, admittedly, but he did the trick. In fact, the last time I had been with a man was in Markarth. I couldn’t handle the asshole, but he was the only one who would do at this rate.

“Argis,” I said. “I’m going to step out for some fresh air. Keep an eye on my shield-brother. If there is anything, alert one of the guards. Word will get back to me quickly that way.”

“With pleasure, my thane,” he answered.

“ _Anyaie_ ,” I said, trying to not let the exasperation peer through. “And if he should be in pain, there are some potions to fortify health in my room. Have him drink one.”

“He’ll be in good hands,” he promised. “Go get some air. You look like you could use it.”

I tried to keep my pace even as I went out of Vlindrel Hall. If he would be anywhere, it would be at the Silver-Blood Inn, trying to bed some pretty Markarthan woman. Surely enough, I found him exactly where I would have expected; drinking some ale and trying to sweeten the inn keeper’s daughter. Of course, I could see why she would indulge him. He was ruggedly handsome and having originally trained at the Bard’s College, he had a way with words when he wanted to. I took a seat next to him and ordered some ale. Kynareth knows I needed it.

"Greetings, thane,” he said, his voice with a mocking edge to it.

“Greetings,” I said, drily.

“What brings you down to Markarth?”

“A job,” I told him. “The old wizard needed my help and I decided to assist.”

Kleppr, the innkeeper, handed me my ale and exchanged a few words with me. The ale was on the house, he insisted. Occasionally, there were some perks to being a thane even I couldn’t resist.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he continued.

“Please. Don’t sound too excited to see me, Yngvar,” I said, taking a sip of ale.

“How could I not? It’s not every day our beloved thane and Harbinger visits our fine city.”

“And it’s not every day I feel like seeking your company at an inn, yet here we are.”

“So that’s what type of visit this is?” he said, amused. He leaned in closer to me here. “I should have realized that’s what you wanted when you came in all wound up.”

“Do you have the room or what?” I demanded.

He snorted. “Of course. Anything for you, my thane. In fact, ladies first.”

He motioned towards a room at the end of the hallway. The innkeeper’s daughter gave me a bitter look and I shrugged at her. He was no prize. If she wanted him, she could certainly take him after I was done with him. Yngvar followed me and shut the door behind us. Just as he was about to say something, I brought my lips to his and ran my hands through his hair. I could hear him release a low moan from the back of throat as he brought me closer to him. I pulled away from his lips and pinned him against the door.

“No words tonight,” I ordered. “Just fuck me.”

A smirk played on his smug face. “Feeling bossy tonight, I see. Well. As you command.”

Within instants our clothes were off and we found ourselves in bed. His rough hands ran down the length of my body until his fingers reached between my legs. I let out a hiss as he brought a finger inside of me. It always began that way if it had been a while. The sting inevitably became pleasurable as he fingered me. Whatever I thought of him, and that wasn’t very much, it felt good, especially when he brought another finger inside of me. It wasn’t enough though.

I brought him down towards me and whispered, “It’s my turn.”

I managed to flip him and pin him onto his back. He gave me a wicked grin, but said nothing. _Mercenary work taught you well_ , I thought. I ran my hands down his chest and down towards his navel. I traced all the scars that he had earned fighting for those damned Silver-Bloods. I wasted no time in taking his shaft into my mouth, keeping my hand at the base. His breath became shallower here. I would bring him right to the edge, just like I wanted. Still keeping my hand on his manhood and stroking it, I told him, “You’re not going to come. Not yet.”

He raised his hands in surrender, but every muscle in his body was tense and I knew he would be close to spilling his seed all over the place. There was something almost intoxicating about it, the control, the ability to make him writhe in moments. I straddled him now and took him inside, feeling my muscles stretch around him. Nothing mattered at that point. Not the fact that I nearly lost Vilkas. Not the fact that I had been terrified of losing him or that I had nearly burned myself out in order to heal him. That was irrelevant. All that mattered was Yngvar’s hands gripping my hips as I thrust myself upon him. It still wasn’t satisfying yet.

He brought my chest down towards his and began kissing me roughly. His strokes were quick yet deep and I knew I wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Then again, neither would he. We both craved release. I let him fuck me as roughly as he wanted. The friction made my toes curl and finally, the pressure that had been building up inside of me released. For one moment, I felt the bliss of not caring about anything but myself. Soon after, he came with a groan and I felt his seed spill inside of me.

We both took a moment to catch our breaths. As it always did, reality tended to settle back in. I pulled myself off of him, still feeling wet as I did.

“Feel better?” he asked, in an overly saccharine voice.

“I’d say I’m not the only one feeling better,” I retorted.

“Eesh. You’re usually less cranky after sex. What happened to you today? Someone steal your sweet roll?”

“ _You_ have been hanging around the guards to much,” I muttered, and pulled myself out of bed.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say it has something to do with that Companion that you brought with you to help you out.”

“How do you know about that?” I snapped.

“Hard not to know. You two caused a scene going to Vlindrel Hall,” he said.

“What you saw today has nothing to do with you, so keep your nose out of it,” I said, cleaning myself and getting my dress back on.

“And yet here you are, defensive and clearly trying to distract yourself,” he mused.

“I needed sex,” I said. “It’s been months. You happen to be the only attractive male in this city and I have the benefit of already knowing your tastes.”

He snorted here. “Not romantic at all, are you?”

“I can’t afford romance,” I said. “Now good day and goodbye to you. I have a home and a friend to tend to.”

“See you next time,” he said, in an almost sing-songy voice.

I glared at him, called him my choice of names, and left with his thunderous laughter still in my ears.

***

That was the way it usually went with Yngvar. It always felt good in the moment. Sometimes we even ate together after the fact, or drank, or just went for another round. He even humoured me with a ballad once; the asshole had an admittedly pleasant voice and could have been a great bard had he not preferred lining his pockets with coins. It should have felt better than that, though. Not that he wasn’t good or that it wasn’t entertaining; he was a skilled lover and it was one of the reasons it was easy going back to him when I was in Markarth. _It must be fatigue_ , I told myself. _Once I clean off my armour and Vilkas’, I’ll go to bed._

I entered my home again and heard Argis’ customary greeting.

“How was your walk?” he asked.

“Needed, I think,” I told him. “How is my shield-brother?”

“Resting soundly,” he assured me. “I’ve taken to cleaning your armour and his.”

“You’re not obliged to do that,” I told him. “You’ve already done a lot for me today. Please. Do rest. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

“It won’t take long.” 

“Alright,” I said, not having the strength to argue. “Have at it.”

I was about to walk away when he said, “You’re strange for a thane.”

“Sorry?” I asked, thinking I misunderstood him.

“I said you’re strange,” he said. “You have this power over others, your housecarls, the guards, and even the finest warriors in Skyrim, but you’d still prefer to do everything on your own. Why?”

“Is that bad?” I asked.

“No, not bad,” he said. “Strange, but not bad.”

I found my lips quirking into a smile. “Well. That’s what you get when you agree to be my housecarl.”

Argis gave me something that I am going to assume is the closest thing I would ever get to a grin with him. I thanked him for the armour and proceeded to get myself ready for bed.

I checked in on Vilkas one last time before I called it a night. There he was, sound asleep as he had ever been…and snoring, even though he would never admit to it. I brought my hand to his forehead again. _Thankfully cool_ , I thought. The worst was over now. There was no need to panic. Tomorrow would be a better day for him and for me. As soon as he was better, we could go back to Whiterun and everything could fall into place again.

Once I realized there was no more that I could do, I decided to call it a night. Deciding to use one of my spare beds, I changed out of my dress and into a simple nightgown. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the fatigue began to settle on me. My muscles ached and my bones felt overworked. Fighting was exhausting. Healing was exhausting. Sex was exhausting. Oblivion. My entire day had been exhausting. The weight of everything stopped mattering at that moment. I closed my eyes and found myself in a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who are reading this, I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you! All your hits, bookmarks, and kudos are appreciated. I'm so excited to share more of THB with you!


	6. Chapter 6

_Middas, 13 thday of Second Seed, _ _4E 202_

There was a time where sleepless nights had been the norm for me. It was those first few weeks at Jorrvasrk. It had been difficult to adapt to the sleeping arrangements and I hated myself for it. After explaining to Lydia that I didn’t want the Companions knowing of any of my titles, we both agreed that it would be wise for me to move to Jorrvaskr temporarily. I didn’t like being in Whiterun and being away from the girls, but I was determined to keep my life as thane and my life as a Companion separate. Evidently, I was too spoiled in Breezehome. I missed having my own room and my privacy, along with the chattering and bantering of the girls.

I remained restless and awake. My roommates were sound asleep and I could hear Torvar’s loud snoring from the other end of the room. _This is senseless,_ I thought. _If I am going to be awake at night, I may as well take that time to get more training._ Delicately opening the chest in front of my bed, I managed to grab a pair of leggings and a loose shirt. As soon as I took my boots,I tiptoed out of the room and slowly made my way out of the mead hall.

The chilly air and the full moons greeted me once I entered the courtyard. Grabbing a battleaxe, likely lovingly crafted by Eorlund with Skyforge steel, I struck one of the training dummies. It had been too long. Not a single job since I joined the Companions. Not even a chance to see the girls. To top it all off, most of my training time was usually cut short by something or another. “Oh new blood! Do this!” or “Whelp! Come here! I need you to hand this dagger to Athis!” A new recruit indeed! Channelling all my frustration into the axe, I took another swing at the dummy.

“Put the weapon down and get back to your quarters.”

I turned to find Vilkas standing at the threshold of the courtyard. His arms were crossed and I could see his indignant scowl in the glow of the moonlight. Of course. I should have figured the one night that I would decide to train, he would be there to catch me. Something was strange about him, though I couldn’t place my finger on it. _Were his eyes always so golden?_ I asked myself.

“I had difficulty sleeping,” I said.

“You know the rules,” he continued, his voice laced with ice.

“I do. Please forgive my lapse in judgment,” I said.

_So much for a training session_ , I thought. I placed the axe back where I found it while Vilkas’ gaze was upon me. I hadn’t had a curfew since I was a child. There was no reason that I could not wander onto the courtyard when I pleased, especially if I wanted to train. There had been little reason given to us about not going out past eleven at night anyhow. Just a vague explanation on how rigorous training schedules were and how imperative it was to sleep. This seemed to suit the others just fine and we were often exhausted by the end of our day. But, surely they must have wondered at some point as well why they couldn’t roam the courtyard at night?

“It is done,” I told him. “Just as requested. I bid you goodnight.”

He said nothing but before I could re-enter the mead hall, I heard him release a sharp hiss. My head spun around quickly. Vilkas was on one of his knees while clutching onto his arm. It spasmed and twitched violently and I could hear Vilkas grunt, as if trying to shove something down. Beads of sweat began to drip from his forehead and he sounded as though he was straining against something. In all the years I had helped my father, I had never seen anything like it.

I spoke the words I needed and felt the magic building up in my palm.

“What….are you doing?” he demanded.

“Healing you,” I said. “Whatever this is…”

“No,” he hissed. “Get away from me.”

With that, the spell was shattered. What sort of prideful idiot would willingly suffer through pain when someone skilled in restoration was clearly right in front of them? I was nearly about to tell him so and berate him for his behaviour. Then his arm stopped twitching and he was able to pull himself back up. He made it look effortless, but I could still see the sweat that lined his forehead. If I had any thought of asking him if he was better or what had actually happened, all thoughts of that perished just by looking at him.

“There’s nothing to look at here. Now leave,” he ordered.

I nodded here, unsure of what else to say. I returned to my quarters soon after, both confused and angered by his attitude. I don’t know what I had done to provoke his ire from the moment he had seen me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t have merited such treatment from him. That anger subsided quickly when I realized there were more important questions. It was easy to conclude that he hadn’t wanted my help because he didn’t like me. It was possible that he had some sickness that was incurable. The problem was none of the incurable illnesses I had seen had ever made someone’s arm throb the way Vilkas’ did. Something more nagged at me. What if what I witnessed wasn’t an illness at all?

Turning back onto my side here, I tried to make myself comfortable again. I shouldn’t be snooping into matters that didn’t concern me. It was Vilkas’ business, not mine. If the Circle found out that I was outside past curfew, there would be harsh consequences. My training was already limited enough. I couldn’t afford to have those few moments reduced even more than they were.

The next morning, I made my way into the courtyard once more in order to hopefully resume what I hadn’t been able to the night before. Vilkas was leaning against one of the poles of the yard, looking into the distance. I sucked in my breath here. _What happened last night was nothing_ , I reminded myself. _If Vilkas should bring it up, you play stupid. Do not provoke anyone’s ire._ He turned to me and motioned me towards him. For someone who had looked ill last night, he looked inexplicably fine again. There were no dark circles under his eyes, and his blue eyes were bright and alert. If I had any intention to ask him about what had occurred the night before, it vanished in instants. Even before he breathed a word, I knew I wouldn’t get any answers.

“Not a word of last night to anyone,” he whispered underneath his breath.

“Not a word,” I repeated. “Might I do something to assist you this morning?”

“Well, if he doesn’t need you for anything, I can certainly give you something to do,” a new voice chimed in.

Vilkas walked off here without any further comment and Njada came around. A part of me wished I could have pressed the matter further with him. It made me wonder if I could help him. _Perish the thought_ , I told myself. _You have Njada here who is probably going to ask for some trivial errand now anyhow._

I sighed. “How can I be of assistance, Companion?”

“I have some new armour being crafted by Eorlund. Would you be so kind as to pick it up for me and deliver it to my quarters?”

“Of course, Companion.”

“ _And_ while you’re at it, would you mind sharpening my blades for me? I hear you’re quite skilled at the forge.”

“It would be my honour, Companion.”

“And _one last thing!_ ”

“Yes, Companion?”

“Would you mind cleaning my armour for me? I would do it myself, but I’m _exhausted_ from my last job.”

“It would be my _greatest_ pleasure, Companion.”

Njada gave me a razor sharp smile. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you. I’ll hand it to you once you’re back from the Skyforge.”

I suppressed a grumble as Njada walked away, probably so that she could pick another fight with Athis, the dark elf I had seen her brawl with the day that I had arrived at Jorrvaskr. Along my way to the Skyforge, I watched everyone practiced with their weapons. Farkas was trying to coax a none too happy and likely drunk Torvar into more training. Athis practiced his knife throwing on a dummy with Aela looking over his shot. Vilkas and Ria were sparring with warhammers. _What I would do to actually be training right now instead of being a lackey_ , I thought.

As per usual, I found Eorlund working the forge with the utmost concentration. He only noticed me once he actually turned away from the forge. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement. For a small moment, I wondered if I should offer to become his apprentice and forget about becoming a Companion altogether. At least working with the old man would give me some sort of experience.

“I’m here to pick up Njada’s armour,” I told him.

“Lass. I thought we had the conversation of not becoming a footstool.”

“We did,” I sighed. “Yet here we are. And she fully expects me to sharpen her blade too.”

“Don’t you have a spine?” he demanded. “Njada can damn well bring her own blade and weapons here and you know it. You’re not her inferior. Why are you caving to her demands?”

“Because…it’s nothing. I’ll do this for her and no more.”

“That’s what you said the last two times.”

“I wasn’t serious the last two times,” I told him.

“And what makes this different?” he pressed.

“It just is,” I lied. “I’ll sharpen the blade and be off on my way. Thank you, Eorlund.”

He sighed again, shook his head, and went back to work. In the meantime, I decided to sharpen her blade. It had been the third time she had asked me to run errands for her in the last couple of days. That wasn’t mentioning all the other stupidities she had me do before then. Eorlund wasn’t wrong, although he did forget how tenuous my position as the new member was. Last one in, first one out. It was something that haunted my thoughts as I tried integrating myself with the Companions. The truth was that I wouldn’t tell her no. It would have to be this way until they came to respect me in my own right.

Making my way back to the mead hall, I heard someone call out my name. I turned to see one of my roommates, Ria. She was a tall woman with braided brown hair and brown eyes, and a friendly face. The only Imperial amongst the many Nords, and a Breton and a Dark Elf, she should have probably been marked as an outsider given the war. That was hardly the case. The others were respectful and even kind to her. She flashed me a warm smile and fell into step next to me. It wasn’t hard to see why she was so well liked after talking to her for a few minutes. 

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Njada wanted me to get her some armour from Eorlund, so I’m delivering it to her…then cleaning her armour.”

“You’re doing _what_?” Ria exclaimed. “Anyaie!”

“You remember what it was like to be the new one, right?” I asked. “You feel you have to bend over backwards for everyone.”

_Because you’re also not sure you belong here, so you do what you can to fit in, even if that means taking on stupid errands_ , I thought.

“It wasn’t _that_ long ago,” she said. “And I get it, but everyone’s equal here. You can tell her ‘no’ and she’ll have nothing to say about it.”

“In theory, not necessarily in practice.”

“Not that I’d encourage it buuut…you _did_ fight Vilkas and manage to throw him off his game a little. You could probably brawl her and win, you know, if you wanted to and she was being an ass,” she suggested.

I glared at her and she stuck her hands up. “But I didn’t suggest it if anyone asks.”

I snorted. “Thank you. Very helpful.”

That was when it clicked with me. Eorlund and Ria were right. I was training to be a Companion. This running errands? This tiptoeing around? It would have to end at some point. I had lied to Eorlund that I would say no to Njada, but I was a woman of my word, or I tried being. Whatever she saw on my face made Ria’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It was amusing. Imagine if I had sprouted a snout! She might have actually fainted.

“Actually, I take it back. That was very helpful,” I told her. “In fact, I have a favour to ask of you.”

“Name it.”

“Bring the armour and the blade to Njada. There’s something I want to ask Aela.”

The words clicked with Ria as she smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you. When I’m back, come with me to the Bannered Mare. Your mead is on me.”

“You owe me at least an apple pie and mead,” she said.

“Fine. I’ll throw in some venison too if it appeases you, your Imperialness.”

“ _That_ is what I like hearing. As soon as you’re back, you hear? No excuses.”

Once Ria had set off to give the armour to Njada, I was off to see Aela. I still found her with Athis at the training dummy. This time, she had her bow and arrow out and she was meters away from the dummy itself. She focused intently on the mannequin, aiming right at the bull’s eye. When she was sure, she drew the string back and let the arrow fly. It zipped past me and hit the target in mere seconds. She drew another arrow and let this one pierce the dummy’s head, and another where the dummy’s groin would be.

“That’s how it’s done,” she told Athis. “I see we have a spectator. What can I help you with, new blood?”

“I’m looking for work,” I told her. “Do you have any leads?”

“Well, well, well. I thought you’d never ask, you know, since you’ve been running errands around for everyone,” she said, and I tried to not let those words sting. “A citizen of Riverwood has asked for our help. It seems as predator has invaded their home and someone needs to clear the beast out.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I said.

“Excellent. I have the information on here,” she said, handing me a piece of paper.

I scanned the information quickly and said, “I’ll see that it’s done.”

“I knew we could count on you. Get it taken care of right away. Nobody wants an animal left roaming around in their place.”

_Certainly not Sven anyhow_ , I thought, trying to stifle a giggle. The image of the bard trying to fend off a wolf with his lute was unfortunately hilarious. I wondered if he would go on top of the table and try to swat the thing. Poor bastard. I supressed my laughter, only because I didn’t think Aela would take to my amusement too kindly.

I began planning my journey to Riverwood. It had been a long time since I passed that way. It was half a day to get to the village which, while not terrible, still meant I would have to prepare. I could stop by the house and get some food and potions there before I left. Oh, and gifts in case I saw Hadvar’s family. Looking back at it…it seems almost laughable. Yes I had killed worse than simple beasts, but the prospect of doing anything that wasn’t me being an errand girl was profoundly exciting. _Nine Divines, is this what lowering your standards looks like?_ I thought, but it didn’t stop that bubbling feeling of excitement. It was not much, but it was something. No one could take that away from me.

Just as I was about to leave the courtyard, someone cleared their throat. Letting out the closest thing I could to an annoyed breath, I spun around to see Njada, looking at me expectantly. The ire radiated off of her in waves. Ria quickly followed and mouthed the word ‘sorry.’ She had nothing to be sorry for, though. I knew this would happen and I had prepared for it.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” she demanded.

“I have a job for Aela that I was just about to accomplish.”

“I gave you a job and you sent someone else to do it in your place!”

“Last I checked, we were equals, and I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. A job would also imply that I was paid and, if my memory serves me, you’ve never given me septims for being your errand girl,” I reminded her.

“You’re a whelp,” she snarled. “Your payment is gratitude that you’re even here!”

“Are you implying I don’t belong?” I demanded.

“Belong? Please. If you can’t follow basic instructions, you don’t belong here,” she snapped.

It was in that moment the entire yard went silent. The only thing I could hear in the distance was Eorlund working at the forge. Everyone’s eyes were on us, but I paid them no attention. She wanted to provoke me into a brawl. Ria’s words came back to me here. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of laying a single hand on me. I approached her now, slowly, not wanting to trigger any sudden movements. Let her think she was still safe.

“Let’s get something straight, _Companion_ ,” I whispered. “I am here to stay and I will _not_ have you boss me around like I’m your servant.”

“Oh, but I can, and I will. You’re expendable, new blood. Don’t forget it, especially when I join the Circle,” she hissed.

“Not if I join first,” I said.

That moment could have been nothing more than a blur, but it felt like a lifetime. Njada swung her fist at me and I stopped it, balling it into mine. Just as she tried to get me with her other hand, I blocked that one too. She let out a growl here and tried to wriggle out of my grasp. I screamed something, I don’t remember what. It could have been “No!”, “Enough!” or “Stop!” or any combination of the three, but I knew it had happened. I could feel the _thu’um_ make its way to the edges of my voice as I shouted. The ground beneath us shook. In my moment of shock, Njada escaped from my grip, but didn’t bother attacking me. In some ways, it made it worse. Her eyes widened in terror and my stomach dropped. _No, it was a mistake_ , I wanted to tell her. _I didn’t mean for that to happen._

No one said anything until she stuttered, “Y-you! This isn’t over! Don’t clean my damn armour, I don’t care! But you’ll pay for whatever you just did.”

_Tell her it was a mistake_ , a voice inside of me urged. _Explain it was an accident. Tell her you’ll make it up to her._

“Don’t try me,” I warned. “You won’t like what will happen next.”

She stalked away here and the Companions in the courtyard looked stunned. _How is it possible that I draw attention wherever I go?_ I thought, bitterly. I could have explained to them that it wasn’t done on purpose, but I had no will to. I wanted to be left alone to resume planning my journey to Riverwood.

“An excellent spell, lass.”

As if sent by the Divines themselves, Eorlund appeared. _Spell?_ I wondered. I was just about to open my mouth to question him when he shot me a look that suggested I not speak.

“You did a fine job enchanting your armor with it as well,” he continued. “Who would have thought? A spell to make the ground shake.”

“Right,” I said, uneasily.

“Well. What are you all looking at? The lass is skilled. That shouldn’t surprise any of you. Back to what you were doing. _Everyone_ ,” he ordered, and went back to the forge.

Everyone dispersed soon after, though I could see some of them eying me curiously.

Aela, for her part said, “I don’t know what type of spellcasting that is, but I sure hope it helps you killing that beast in Riverwood.”

“I, uh, suspect it will,” I said.

If they all wanted to believe it was a spell, I wouldn't argue. The last thing I wanted was to go into being dragonborn and having to answer a thousand questions. Sometimes a lie facilitated living. Besides, there was probably one of them who would be smart enough to piece together that what happened wasn't because my armor was enchanted. Eorlund's lie bought me time, time that I would rather focus on my job in Riverwood.

***

Before I knew it, my horse, and I set back onto the familiar path from Whiterun to Riverwood. Whiterun, as a hold, had one of the more mild and pleasant climates compared to the mountainous hold of Eastmarch. The first time I made the journey from the small town to the capital city, I had done it all on foot. It had been a tedious journey, half a day’s worth of walking with the occasional break on foot. It hadn’t been entirely unpleasant and I was reminded of that as we made our way along the cobblestone road. The soothing rush of the river, the fresh air, and the occasional chirping of birds. It brought back bittersweet memories of my early days in Skyrim.

By the time I was greeted by Riverwood’s wooden arch, the sun was at the peak of its afternoon heat. It was a pleasant warmth, the type that didn’t overheat you while wearing armor. I left my horse at the stables and made my way into the town. It was every bit as I remembered it with its wooden buildings, the clanking that came with Alvor working at the forge, and children giggling as they played outside. I caught someone’s attention as I went towards Sven’s house. Whispers. They wouldn’t have recognized me in this armor anyhow, especially when the helmet concealed all of my face.

Sven’s face lit up once he spotted me. Objectively speaking, Sven was a fine looking lad. He reminded me of Torvar, or rather, Torvar reminded me of him with his golden locks and bright blue eyes. Unlike my potential shield-brother, Sven was sober and could be found with his lute in the Sleeping Giant’s Inn. That was something about those Bard College graduates; they had the finest voices in the land. Too bad some of them didn’t have the mind to go with it.

It took me everything not to chuckle at him not recognizing me. We hadn’t had the best history. I thought he was a smug, self-centered and self-aggrandizing bastard. He was bitter that I hadn’t tampered with Camilla’s affections for Faendal, the local hunter. A terribly trifling affair. 

“Thank the Divines!” he said. “I’ve been expecting you! This…this beast, it won’t leave my house.”

I pointed to the door.

“Yes, right this way,” he said. “I wish you luck.”

I nodded and entered Sven’s home, my iron battleaxe ready for the moment the creature would attack. The home itself was a perfectly average. It had the usual wooden furniture that probably came from the local lumber mill, an area big enough to fit a table, a nice hearth, and a downstairs area with two beds. I could see the beast’s marks. It had clawed at some of the cabinets and the food at the table was strewn all over floor. There was also the undeniable stench of excrement. Under any other situation, the thought of shit in Sven’s home might have been amusing. It wasn’t, not when the house was too quiet. The creature was likely stalking my every move, waiting for me to make a mistake.

There was a moment when I caught the shimmering of a cat’s eye. _Sabre cat_ , I concluded. How in Oblivion it had gotten down from the mountains and into Sven’s home was a mystery to me, but there was no doubt about it. The _thu’um_ worked its way into my throat before I realized it. It itched and begged for release. _Get it before it gets you_. _Drain its vitality._

“ _Gaan_!” I shouted, and I could hear the cat release a hiss.

It came closer to me now, walking a bit wobbly on its four legs. It was a terrible thing with a thick tawny coat and gleaming sharp fangs, though its eyes at lost their earlier sharpness. It still made a lunge for me and I brought my axe down to its paw, managing to tear a deep gash into its skin. Even though my _thu’um_ would still be working its effects, I knew I couldn’t count on it to work permanently, not when the giant cat roared and pounced at me. I swung the axe and knocked it down mid-pounce, causing it to fall on the floor. Just as it was about to get up and recover, I brought my axe onto it again, this time striking it square in the shoulder blades. I knew it screamed, it must have, but I heard nothing. I withdrew the axe from its back and flung it one last time, and its body faltered and collapsed.

I bent down and turned the creature over now. It never felt good taking an animal’s life. It had been a necessary evil, especially when they attacked at random on the road. If there was something my time in Skyrim had taught me, it was that nothing needs to go to waste; its pelt could be used for some good armor later, and it would be some extra gold I could put towards bettering my own armor down the line. Its teeth and eyes would also be ideal for my stamina potions. The rest of the body could be given to Faendal. If anyone would know what to do with the remainders, it would be him.

Exiting Sven’s house, I saw him and Hilde clamor eagerly around the door for my return. They must have heard the noises inside.

“You killed it!” Sven exclaimed. “I can’t thank you enough, Companion.”

I brought up a hand to say, “No need.”

“A quiet one,” Hilde chuckled. “Cat didn’t get your tongue, did it?”

_How am I supposed to answer that without giving myself away?_ I wondered.

“Leave him be, mother,” Sven said.

“Do you require assistance with your home?” I asked, my voice sounding gravelly with the exhaustion of fighting and the echo of my helmet.

“Oh that would be so kind!” Hilde said, and I could see the look of gratitude on Sven’s face. _I have to get out of here as soon as I’m done_ , I thought. _I don’t feel like getting the fall out of his anger once he’s realized I’ve helped him._

Considering the mess, it hadn’t taken that long to get everything back into shape. It was surprisingly easy to buff out most of the claw marks, as well as rearrange most of the furniture. Granted cleaning the floor while wearing armor was not the best way to spend my time, but between Sven, Hilde, and I, we did a fine job of putting the place back in order. It was also here that I noticed that the beast had eaten most of their food for the month. It would be no small feat to replace all that, and it would be a terrible blow to their pockets as well.

“That should be all of it,” Sven said. “Thank you, Companion. If you’d give me a moment, I’d be happy to compensate you for your efforts.”

“No. Wait,” I objected, and I took on my helmet.

All the earlier gratitude I had seen was replaced with pure ire. _And there is the Sven I remember_ , I thought. Now he looked more like the spoiled and repulsive brat I always remembered him being. _By Dibella, Camilla dodged an arrow_ , I thought.

“You!” he snapped.

“Sven!” Hilde called out, rushing back up the stairs. As soon as she saw me, she scowled.

“What’s this bitch doing here?” she demanded.

“It turns out _this_ is our Companion.”

“What kind of sick joke do you think you’re pulling here, girl?”

“No joke,” I said. “Just fulfilling my duty.”

“I am _not_ giving you a bit of this…” Sven began.

“You don’t owe me compensation if you’re averse to paying me,” I cut in. “I’ll find other jobs and earn that gold elsewhere. If I may be excused, I have people to visit before I return to Whiterun.”

“Hold on! Hold on! _Hold on_!” he snapped.

“Yes?” I said.

“Why are you being… _nice_?”

“It’s not nice,” I said. “It’s called courtesy and professionalism. I accomplished a job and now I will take my leave.” 

“But you don’t even like me!” he snapped. “Why would you pretend to be a Companion to help me out?”

_Did the man really go to college?_ I wondered.

“Firstly, I’m not _pretending_ to be a Companion. I am training to be one. Secondly, you’re absolutely correct: I don’t like you,” I said. “But I don’t have to like you to help you. I want you to keep the gold. That creature depleted you of stock and you’ll need it.”

“Th-thank you,” he stammered.

“You’re welcome. Now that I don’t have to hide my face anymore, I’m going to be seeing Faendal, then Alvor, Sigrid, and Dorthe.”

Sven looked as though he was pondering something, but I paid no mind to it. When we had cleaned earlier, I had wrapped the sabre cat’s remains. I grabbed that with me now and I was ready to head out. As I was about to twist the knob to leave he said, “Hadvar is back and staying at the inn.”


	7. Chapter 7

My stomach knotted itself at the thought of Hadvar returning. Realistically speaking, there was always a chance that he would come back to Riverwood. Oblivion, there was a chance that I could have run into him anywhere in Skyrim. I just told myself that he was too busy with the Legion in Solitude to ever cross paths with me. _Even the Legion patrols around Skyrim, you idiot_ , I thought.

"I know you two were close, so I thought I'd let you know," Sven said.

"Thank you. I appreciate that," I said.

"No problem. Good luck."

As I left Sven and Hilde's home, I could see the sign of the Sleeping Giant slowly swinging with the evening breeze. The thought of a good pint of ale and the warmth of the inn was tempting. _I need to see Faendal first and deliver the remains to him. After that, I should pay Alvor a visit_ , I told myself. The Sleeping Giant could wait. Hadvar could wait.

Seeing familiar faces in Riverwood was pleasant enough. Faendal was happy to see me, grinning from ear to ear as I recounted what transpired between Sven and the sabre cat. He graciously took the beast's remains and offered to give me some fresh herring before I left the next day. After I visited him, I went to see Hadvar's family. I gifted Alvor and Sigrid jewelry that I crafted myself, along with a newly made practice shield for Dorthe. It was the very least I could do to repay their hospitality and for Alvor's mentorship; without him, I would have never learned my way around the forge. They were touched by the gesture and invited me to stay for supper, which I graciously accepted. It was a wonderful feeling being around these people again. I wanted to lean into it as I would a warm mug of mead, but Hadvar lingered at the back of my mind.

Eventually, I knew I couldn't avoid it and I found myself at the inn. Riverwood being as small as it was meant I recognized nearly everyone there. Luckily, most of everyone was too involved in their own affairs to notice me. Hod and Embry were well into their drinks, laughing at some bawdy story as they so often did. The others gathered around Sven as he sang "Ragnar the Red." The only two to notice me were the innkeeper, Delphine, who gave me a curt nod of acknowledgment and Orgnar, the bartender and cook. Orgnar generously gave me my first round for free.

Delphine went behind the bar as Orgnar went to prepare my room for the night. She was a woman with shrewd features, a slightly upturned nose, and eyes that seemed to take in all of their surroundings. Throughout my stay in Riverwood, I remembered she had the peculiar tendency of scanning the inn. She'd often linger around the corner, almost as if looking out for any danger. I assumed that this was because there had been incidents involving the increase in bandits throughout Skyrim's holds. She had that same suspicious look on her face with no trace of friendliness when she approached me.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you around these parts anymore," Delphine said.

"I didn't think I'd be back here either," I said. "I had a job. Someone had to take care of the beast problem in Sven's home."

"Interesting. I suppose you don't have any other beasts to take care of right now, do you?"

That stopped me mid-sip. Her expression was surprisingly neutral, even ambivalent, but her tone had given her away. Delphine and I had only interacted in passing throughout my time in Riverwood. I hadn't encountered her anywhere else in my travels, and neither did I remember being so offensive during my initial stay that I merited her reproach. Her piercing stare was discomforting and I soon found myself regretting engaging in any sort of conversation with her.

"No, not unless there has been and someone else has taken my place," I said half-jokingly.

"Let's hope that's not the case. It would be a shame if someone else had to step in, wouldn't it?" she said.

Orgnar decided to come to show me to my room before I could respond to her in kind. I hated how relieved I felt once I walked away from her. I still felt her disdain radiating from feet away as I closed the door behind me to change out of my armor. Whatever she meant by that…insult, threat, or whatever it was, it wasn't worth my time. _It would be a shame if someone else had to step in_ , I repeated to myself while taking off my gauntlets. Word must have gotten around that I was trying to become a Companion. Though I didn't see Sven taking any sort of joy in telling her that, it would make sense. She likely thought I wasn't suited for the guild. It became easier to dismiss her comment after that. After all, it meant she was no different from Vilkas or Njada.

Once I changed into a pair of pants and a tunic, I sought Hadvar. He was at his usual table in the corner of the room, drinking alone. Sven was just beginning to sing "Age of Aggression." I thought he would get up to see him perform, but he remained firmly in his seat. Something was troubling him and I was sure I knew what it was. I bought myself more ale and sat next to Hadvar, yet he remained focused on his drink.

"Greetings, legionnaire," I said. "What brings you to these parts?"

"My duty," he said. "What brings an aspiring Companion to Riverwood?

"Duty as well. If I buy you a drink, perhaps I'll hear more of your time in Solitude."

Hadvar turned to face me now and I sucked in my breath. He remained every bit as handsome as I recalled. His beard had grown out a bit more and he kept his hair a little shorter than I remembered. But, I knew my mistake the moment I looked at him and knew I shouldn't have expected any more than what was coming.

"I don't believe that's wise," he said.

It ached more than I cared to admit. After months of dreading a potential reunion, it was occurring the way I thought it would. I ached to run a hand through his hair and explain to him that it wasn't him. I wanted to tell him I couldn't forget him anymore than I could forget Helgen. None of those words came out of me. Instead, I let out a harsh laugh and took another sip of ale.

"Suit yourself," I told him.

"Anyaie, I'm not going to pretend everything is fine when it's not," he said. "It's been months since I've heard from you. Now you expect me to have a drink with you as if nothing has happened?"

"Then let's talk. It needn't take long."

He thought for a moment before saying, "Fine. Follow me."

We were greeted by silence as we left the noisiness of the Sleeping Giant. There was a slight draft in the air; I hadn't noticed just how warm it was at the inn. We walked along the main road at first, not wanting to venture too far off from the village. Hadvar walked close next to me, our shoulders brushing every once in a while. Sometimes I turned to see his profile underneath the light of the moon. There was a time where I would steal glances while we walked alongside each other. It was a pleasant sort of quietude that came with his company. This silence was stifling, but saying anything would make it worse.

We then veered off the path a little and stopped near the river itself, but neither of us spoke. All we heard was the river and the whirring of torchbugs. I leaned back against the trunk of a tree, waiting for him to start talking. He approached me with his arms crossed as if he was trying to prevent himself from getting too close. The thought stung. Though I hadn't seen him in months, I still craved him. Everything inside of me yearned to close that space between us and feel like we could be together again. It was a stupid and deluded thing to want him the way I did when I knew it couldn't work.

"You should make it quick," he said. "I can't afford to stay an extra day."

"I don't know how to begin," I admitted.

"You can begin by telling me why you haven't written back to me in five months," he said.

"I've been busy," I said.

"Busy?"

"I am a thane of Whiterun and an adventurer. Forgive me if I don't think of writing," I said.

"That sounds like a load of shit and you know it."

"You know what's also a load of shit? If you were so concerned with how I was doing when I didn't answer your letter, why didn't you reach out to contact me again?"

"Don't shift this on me," he warned.

"Oh no, I'm not. I'm just saying if you were truly concerned about my well-being, you would have taken the time to follow up on correspondence. Found some wench in Solitude to tame your lusts while you were waiting for me, I see?"

Hadvar turned a deep shade of red here and I scoffed, trying to ignore the ache that came with that revelation. There were several things I thought would happen if I didn't respond to his letter. At the very least, I thought he would move on easily and find another. I half-expected to find him married to some well-born woman in Solitude. Not responding to his letter had apparently worked too well.

"I…" he began, and looked down. "It was once. A month after I didn't hear from you. After that…I didn't know how to write to you. I didn't even think I had the right to find you."

"I moved around a lot. You wouldn't have found me," I said, flatly. "Tell me, was she good at least?"

"No, it wasn't worth it," he admitted. "It was a mistake and I regret it. Sorely. I would never do it again and if you would…"

"I'm not upset with you," I cut in. "We never did speak of the terms of…whatever this was."

"Whatever it was? We had something together," Hadvar snapped. "You _know_ that. Why are you trying to deny it now?"

"You can't deny something that never existed to begin with," I countered.

"Are you saying we had nothing?" he demanded.

"This will come to mean nothing to you eventually," I answered. "You'll be upset for a time, but it'll pass. You'll find another woman to warm your bed soon enough."

"But is this nothing to you?"

"It will be soon enough. I'd suggest you start coming to terms with that now."

"Why are you being so cruel about this?"

It was cruel. At the end of the day, I ignored his letter fully knowing that he could end up in another's arms. If I didn't do it then, it would have hurt even more in the long-term. He didn't deserve my coldness or my ire. He deserved someone who could give him exactly what he wanted. I didn't have that for him. Up until that moment, I thought I had made peace with it. Now it burned like poison going through my gut. It had to hurt, otherwise I would never be able to go through with this.

"Because I want to spare you some of the pain that comes when reality hits you, and hits you hard. The only reason you were so attracted to me was because I was the only person you knew you could talk to about Helgen," I said. "Maybe you even felt some sort of debt to me because I saved you. Then I became your first. That's not love. That's misplaced gratitude at best."

Hadvar's eyes glistened with unshed tears. A lump formed in my throat. _He'll thank me one day_ , I told myself. _When he finds his perfect Solitude wife, he will thank me._ For now, he had to understand that there was nothing between us. The months that we had spent together were lovely the way looking at a pretty necklace was. That didn't mean there was anything more. To confuse it for something greater than it was would be reckless. That was his mistake, not mine.

"Is that how you think I feel?" he whispered.

I had to do this. This was what was best for both of us. If things continued the way that they had, one of us would get hurt. Wasn't he the one who told me all those months ago that muscles ached as they got stronger? I knew I couldn't bear to look at him. If my eyes would meet his, it would shatter all my resolve. He would make me doubt my decision to distance myself from him.

"I've been with enough men to know what your lot think," I said, looking at the ground.

"Look at me," he said.

Hadvar gently tilted my head up and my cheeks burned. His eyes bore into mine. Despite the pain I saw there, there was a trace of disbelief. No matter how much I tried to conceal it from him, I realized he suspected something was not what it seemed.

"This isn't you," he said. "The woman I've come to know would never do this."

"Yet here we are," I said, weakly.

He ran his thumb along my lips, his touch softer than tundra cotton. I should have protested or stopped him. Instead, I did nothing. His palm cupped the side of my face, his thumb still grazing my lips. I closed my eyes here and enjoyed the warmth of his hand despite myself. _This is enough_ , I thought, until I felt his lips brush against mine. It wasn't much of a kiss. It was brief and tenuous, but I knew him. He wouldn't be able to leave it there, no more than I would.

He brought his lips to mine again, stroking my cheek. I kissed him back, and I found my arms wound around him instants. I ran my hands up his back, tracing my hands back down familiar patterns. This was what I wanted. He brought me closer now, our kisses becoming needier as his tongue brushed against mine. He still tasted as sweet as mead, but it wasn't enough. I wanted more. I needed more. His hardness began pressing up against my thigh. Any thought I had of the Companions or Whiterun vanished. There was that moment, him, and nothing else.

"That's not nothing," he whispered against my lips.

It wasn't nothing. It was never nothing between us. There was something about Hadvar that caught my attention that day at Helgen. He should have been no more than some Imperial bastard who had nearly sentenced me to my fate. Instead, there was a troubled look on his face while I made my way to the chopping block. He was compassionate and he proved it to me as we made our way out of Helgen together. I hadn't saved his life like I claimed; we had helped each other. I then followed him to Riverwood because I felt safe around him, a rare thing given the circumstances. We spent most of our time together throughout the week I was in the village. One thing had led to another and we had slept together. When I left for Whiterun, we promised to maintain correspondence.

It should have been so easy to assign all the feelings I started to experience to my sense of gratitude, but I knew it wasn't true. Every letter from him brought a grin to my face and I yearned to hear from him no matter where I was. I sought him just to prove to myself that I was mistaken about my affections. I travelled all the way to Solitude for him, thinking I would confirm that the whole affair was ridiculous. I left knowing that it wasn't gratefulness. Those were some of the happiest moments. He would speak of things he wanted one day. Children, marriage, his own home, a future. I drank in his dreams as easily as I drank mead. Those days were good, but they were too good. Nothing remained unspoiled, especially not when you were dragonborn.

The reality set in and the spell broke. It was as if someone had dumped cold water over my head after drinking too much. All the remnants of sweetness were gone, instead replaced with something far bitterer. I stopped kissing him.

"Anyaie?" he asked.

"Please let go of me."

His lingered for a brief second before letting me go. Not being in his arms ate at me. It didn't feel right. _What did you think would happen?_ I asked myself. I had no right to feel as torn apart as I did, not when I knew this was the outcome.

"I get it now," he said.

"Get what?" I asked.

He shook his head and let out a disdainful laugh. Hadvar walked towards the river now, as if he needed to be away from me. It was strange not having his warmth around me, even if it had been for a moment. Hadvar looked up at the moon, and breathed out. I could see him shaking his head and he ran his hands through his hair. Unsure of what to do, I remained by the tree and watched him.

I asked again, "What is it that you think you get?"

He turned to me now and answered, "You. All of this. You feel the same way about me as I do about you and you can't handle that."

The observation cut through me like a sword. He knew he struck me with those words because all the tenderness I had seen earlier transformed back into anger. Hadvar was one of the only people who made me feel as though I were made of glass. Now he could see all the cracks, the fissures that I had tried so desperately to ignore.

"That's what it is, isn't it? You're so scared about the future that you'd toss away a chance at happiness."

"I'm not scared," I protested. "Even if I was, what would it have to do with how I feel about you?"

"You don't like the unpredictability of it all," he said. "Helgen still haunts you as much as it haunts me."

My reaction should have been denial. I should have told him that he was wrong and that he was the only one who still thought about Helgen. Kissing him had been a lapse in my judgment and a crack in the narrative I had constructed. This was my chance to take that power back and drive the wedge between us once and for all because if I didn't, I knew what would happen next.

He returned to me now, this time lacing our hands together. It was a comforting and intimate gesture, one that reminded me that no matter what I insisted, he was not nothing to me. _Do not let your guard fall again_ , I thought. If I let myself fall prey to my emotions again, I wouldn't let him go. It burned knowing that I had to continue being so cold. If he remained angry, it would have been so much easier. Instead, he chose to be sympathetic. I wished it had never been one of the things I had treasured about him.

"It doesn't have to be that way," he insisted. "You can't live your life in fear, holding yourself back from the things that make you happy because you're afraid. We can work on that together."

Together. I always assumed I would be married at some point, but I was not thrilled at the prospect. There were no men in my province that had inspired any sort of desire for commitment. Hadvar was different, or perhaps I was. Lucia and Sofie would have a father who loved them and cared about them. We could raise the girls together in Whiterun for at least a good chunk of their lives. If the Companions accepted me and I had more leeway, we could probably live in Solitude for a good part of the year as well.

The blur of nightmares and memories of the dragon burning Helgen to the ground resurfaced once more. If I was shoved back into that role of dragonborn once more, there would be no telling what would happen next. I could be torn away from the girls or Hadvar. Even adopting the Sofie and Lucia was a risk I hadn't wanted to take, yet they found a way to worm themselves into my heart. They were the exception to the rule. Hadvar wasn't.

"There is no together," I sighed. "Please. Let it go."

It was then I knew that Hadvar's face would never show the tenderness it did towards me ever again. Whatever we had between us had shattered, leaving fragments of empty hopes and dreams behind. If there was any chance of repairing things, it was gone.

"To think I loved you," he finally said.

"Don't claim that," I hissed. "That's…"

"I'm not you. I'm not afraid to say it," he cut in. "I love you, Anyaie, but you're a coward. I won't be with someone who can't be honest with me, let alone themselves."

That was his word and he meant it. He still held on to my hand here. _Prove me wrong_ , I could hear him say. The worst part wasn't remaining silent and turning away from him; it was showing him how painfully right he had been about me.

When I said nothing, he pulled away from me.

"That's that then," he said. "Don't worry about returning to the inn. I'll be staying with my uncle tonight. I hope I don't have the displeasure of running into you tomorrow, or ever again."

I said nothing as he walked towards Alvor and Sigrid's house. The ache inside my chest continued to throb. I walked back into the Sleeping Giant, feeling numb with each step that I took. Orgnar had greeted me when I walked in, but I paid no mind to it. I closed the door to my room. A part of me wanted to tear the whole of Riverwood with one shout. Instead, I laid down on the bed of the inn and stared at the ceiling. _The pain would be worth it one day_ , I told myself. Those words felt as empty as hollow as the bottle of wine on my bedside table.

***

 _Middas, 14_ _th_ _day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

Those days in Markarth passed by quicker than I expected. In a little over a week, Vilkas was back on his feet. He was an easy patient compared to some of the people I dealt with while training. That could have been attributed to him wanting to get out of my home and back to Jorrvaskr as quickly as possible. If it was so unpleasant to him, he didn't make it known. We had fallen into an easy routine during that time. Apart from tracking the expedition at the beginning of our stay, there wasn't much else for us to do. Our days became dedicated to getting him back on his feet, taking walks in the city, and keeping each other company during supper.

On our last full day, I decided to go to the market and buy some fresh salmon. We had mainly been having beef, venison, and some chicken. Argis had also been the one who had done all the cooking up until this point and I decided I wanted to give him the night off, though I hadn't informed him yet. I was thrilled when the fishmonger had some beautiful cuts that were cleaned.

When I entered Vlindrel Hall again, I found Vilkas reading a book. He heard me and put it down. Eying the bundle in my hands, he quirked an eyebrow.

"Fish?" he asked.

"Indeed," I said. "I thought I would cook tonight."

"That's not necessary," he objected. "I, ah, believe Argis was going to prepare some grilled leeks, potatoes, and a cheese fondue."

Right on cue, Argis grabbed the bundle of raw salmon steaks and took a good look at them. There was something on his face akin to relief and I wasn't quite sure why.

"I can work with this tonight instead," Argis said. "Should you both return to Markarth, I'll make my cheese fondue then."

"There's no need," I said. "I was going to make the salmon. You deserve a night off, and to be treated."

"That is kind of you, my thane," Argis said. "But you need to make sure you are rested for your trip tomorrow. Enjoy your last day here."

"Cooking is…"

"I insist, my thane," Argis said.

I shrugged here and decided to let the matter be. Seeing as Vilkas and I both packed lightly, there was not much for us to do. Besides, he was caught up in a book and Argis was preparing supper.

I decided to rifle through some of the loot from our time in the ruins. Most of it was easily organisable. I was able to sift through the objects I could use for my potions and enchanting my weapons and armour quickly. Half of the ingredients could easily stay in Markarth; I had more than enough in Whiterun to last me for the next little while, though having extra ingredients for healing potions never hurt. I usually carried soul gems on my person. Having a few extra left behind was no problem, so long as I kept enough to recharge my weapons.

That was when I saw the ruby again. It was the first time I had seen it since the excavation site. I studied it carefully. It was no wonder Vilkas was so reluctant to hand it over. Whoever had shaped it made it into a perfect radiant cut and the gem itself didn't have a single scratch on it. I found myself wondering how best to use it. Putting it on a necklace would mean using more gold or silver, making it more lucrative. Using it for a ring would make it stand out more, although it wouldn't be as profitable. _Profit be damned_ , I thought and began working on some designs. As soon as I was back home, I would ask the girls which one they thought was best. They always insisted on contributing to my crafting, so I would save the final decision for them.

I don't know how long I spent like that, but before I knew it, Argis announced that supper was ready. The three of us sat at the table together. I admired his cooking, as I always did. The salmon was cooked to perfection and he made the best grilled leeks. It was probably a good thing I didn't cook after all. Vilkas' last meal in Markarth would have been lacklustre compared to this.

"Do you think you'll be making a leisurely visit to Markarth ever again?" I asked.

"Perhaps if no Dwarven centurions try to kill me," he said.

"You hurt me," I said, taking another bite of the salmon. "Between good food, good company, and excellent accommodations, I thought we could overlook your near death."

"You're right. Argis _is_ good company," he said.

Argis let out a thing that I thought was a snort.

"He certainly is. To Argis," I said, raising my glass. "To an excellent housecarl, cook, and companion. Without you, none of this would be possible."

Argis cracked a tiny smile her and raised his glass.

Vilkas' eyes glinted with amusement as he toasted to Argis, and his eyes locked on mine. _Insufferable_ , I thought _. It doesn't matter where he is in all of Tamriel, he will always be absolutely insufferable._

That was the way much of supper passed. We both helped Argis clean up before we would call it a night. The only thing that remained would be me checking Vilkas' injuries to see how the bruising was healing.

I closed the door behind us here and set to work. He removed his tunic, giving me a clear view of his chest. With the healing potions and my restoration spells, most of the bruising had gone away. I gave him a chance to get comfortable and I prepared myself to use my magic once more. My palms grew warm and the usual golden glow appeared. I brought my hands to his rib cage, never actually touching him, but still hovering near enough to ensure the spell would work.

"You haven't been feeling anymore pain, right?" I asked.

"A bit of sensitive from time to time, but the pain is gone," he said.

"And it's not tender when I apply pressure?" I asked, lightly pressing my finger against his ribs.

"Nothing," he said.

Compared to the other times he had brushed me off, this was an improvement. There were times where he said he didn't feel anything, then flinched at the slightest bit of pressure. Not a single wince or hiss was enough to tell me I had done a decent job.

"Good," I said. "Your healing may be nearly complete, but I don't want to jeopardize the work we've put into this. Rest. You don't want to end up back where you started."

"You saved my life. I won't let it go to waste," he promised.

There was something in his voice as he said it that made me look at him. The firelight contoured his body, but it softened his usual scowl. It wasn't that I had never seen him without his sneer or heard him speak earnestly. We had been through enough together in the time that we did know each other for me to know that wasn't everything. A part of me wished I could make a light-hearted comment about it and tell him he owed me his life, so I would expect that he would keep it intact for when the time came. I couldn't, or at least, I didn't want to. There was something there that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I wasn't sure if it had always been there and I was just noticing it, or if it was new.

 _You're turning nothing into something_ , a voice whispered.

I eventually tore my gaze away from his. I couldn't let it happen again. The situation was already too much. It was one thing having him sleep in my bed because he needed it, but to be in my sleeping quarters, half-naked, and vulnerable, professing that I saved his life? It wasn't going to happen. I wouldn't let this…mess happen again. It was one thing before when I didn't know any better, but this was different.

"I know you won't," I said. "Rest well. I'll see you in the morning."

"Aye."

My footsteps quickened as soon as I left Vilkas' room. Argis called out to me as I walked into my bedchamber. All I could do was mumble something about needing rest. I closed the door behind me and began pacing. Something was wrong with me. Something had been wrong with me when I started falling for Hadvar. I had let it drag on for too long and then I was forced to end it in a painful way. Thinking on it, Hadvar he had been right about something. He wasn't the one who confused the shared pain of Helgen for love; I had. Now it was happening again with Vilkas.

Those were feelings I wouldn't act upon. As Harbinger, I couldn't afford to make stupid decisions. Before anything, he was my shield-brother and I would not be idiotic enough to jeopardize such a bond. I had thought of risking it once, but realized that letting it go any further than it needed to would be a mistake. Besides, no matter how much our relationship had improved, I still thought he was intolerable asshole from all those months ago. When we returned to Whiterun, it would be as if Markarth had never happened. We would go back to our previous relationship, as simple as that.

With that settled, I walked out of my room and found the bottle of wine that Argis had opened earlier. I poured myself a glass and noticed the hearth was still lit. I took a seat next to it, allowing my eyes to focus on the orange flames. The fire crackled as I sipped my wine. This would be one of the few moments of stillness I would get before going back to Jorrvaskr. Markarth never felt like home, but it beat the feeling of being at an inn, which we would have to stop off at tomorrow if we didn't want to exhaust ourselves along the way. _No need to stress about it now_ , I thought, and drank. The warmth spread throughout my body, both cosy and comforting.

All my worries began to melt away into a long, indistinct blur of thoughts. My eyes began to grow heavy and I let out a yawn. The soothing warmth and crackling of the fire lulled me to sleep.

That was when the nightmare took place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again! Just wanted to let you lovely people know that real life's become busy again, but my goal is to still have a chapter posted every Wednesday or Thursday. Thank you for sticking around and for reading! It's appreciated and I can't wait to post more next week!


	8. Chapter 8

_All my dreams of Helgen started with a thunderous thu’um right above me. The dragon swooped over me, causing a gust of wind to follow in its wake. It loomed just above me, giving me a clear view of its appearance. In other circumstances, I would have thought the beast was extraordinary. Its scales looked as though they were crafted of obsidians, its scales glistening in the light of the orange flames. It would have been majestic had it not been for its eyes that looked like liquid fire. Those eyes were not the unfeeling ones of the Dwemer Centurion or of a predator on the hunt. They drank in the sight of the destruction all around them, almost savouring the taste of ash as the world continued to crumble._

_I looked at my hands, half-expecting to see the binds I wore on the way to my execution; they were gone. In their stead were the most exquisite gauntlets I had ever seen. They must have been made out of ivory or even bone. It appeared all of my armour was made of the same substance. When I reached for my weapon, I found that my glass battleaxe was gone and replaced with an ivory one to match my new armor. Though it was not as refined or as delicate as glass, it was still just as sharp, if not sharper. It hummed my name and beckoned to me. It was made for me and I for it. This was how I would slay the beast._

_The beast engulfed the rest of world in fire with a final. Just like that, the flames stopped and there was nothing. The dragon let out a triumphant thu’um and a chill ran down my spine. My armor didn’t matter. All I could do was see everything vanish into the void. Falling to my knees, I released a shout._

_Everything was destroyed and I was to blame._

I awoke with a terrible dread that filled my gut. My breathing was ragged as I looked around the room, trying to gage my surroundings. _I’m in Vlindrel Hall in Markarth, not Helgen,_ I told myself. _Today is Turdas, the fifteenth day of Rain’s Hand, 203._ I shuddered here. That place in my dreams wasn’t Helgen. I would have never been armed if I were simply recollecting what happened that day. That still didn’t make it reassuring.

It had been months since the dragon emerged in my dreams. It came and went, usually correlating to times I was under great strain. Something about those eyes and that shout. It felt too real. I shook off the thought here. Everyone experienced nightmares. It could have been caused by anything, from the duress I went through healing Vilkas or even the wine I drank. There was no reason to be overly anxious over a figment of my mind, yet alone think of dragons when one hadn’t been spotted in over a year.

My eyes wandered to the clock. It was nearly the sixth hour. Vilkas and I would have to prepare to leave within the next hour or so. The fire had ceased, but I wasn’t cold. Despite everything, I felt surprisingly cozy. That was when I noticed that my glass of wine was gone and I had a blanket over me. _Odd_ , I thought. _I don’t remember putting them away or taking a blanket._

“Good morning, my thane,” Argis greeted.

“An…never mind. Good morning, Argis.”

“You slept here last night?” he asked, genuinely taken aback. “Were the arrangements not to your satisfaction?”

“Oh no. It was a mistake,” I assured him.

“Truly?” he asked.

“Truly,” I assured. “I was out of sorts last night and I fell asleep here instead. What rouses you so early?”

“I was about to prepare some rations for you and your shield-brother, as well as something to eat before you left.”

“Unnecessary, but always appreciated. Is there anything I can assist you with?”

“No, though you do have another few minutes to rest. Take advantage of it.”

Argis set off to the pantry to gather ingredients and that was when I heard it. Someone was unlocking the door. Grabbing the nearest object I could use as a weapon, which was a candleholder, I cautiously made my way to the front entrance. A _thu’um_ scratched at my throat, ready to be released. In the faint light of early dawn, I could see a figure but couldn’t quite tell who it was. A knot formed in my stomach as the nightmares flooded back into my memories.

Just as I was about to charge, the figure spoke.

“Good morning to you, sister.”

“Vilkas!” I snapped. “Ysmir’s beard! What were you doing out in the city?”

“Taking care of an errand,” he answered, so casually it infuriated me. “Did you sleep well?”

That was when I smelled perfume so sickeningly sweet and floral that it nearly made me gag. That scent was only associated to Dibella’s practitioners. Although she was typically known as the goddess of beauty and a patron of the arts, most took to her worship for more salacious ends. Those who did shamefully hid their dedication to her in other parts of the province. Markarth, having an entire temple dedicated to her, was laxer about those who practiced her less discussed arts.

 _You come here strolling into my home at this godsforsaken hour after being out for who knows how long and you ask me how I’ve slept?_ I thought.

“Fine,” I said. “Just fine. We should be leaving soon.”

“But we’re not due to leave in another hour…”

“I said we’re leaving soon. Be ready. I want to get to Whiterun by nightfall.”

With that, I went to my quarters to begin preparing myself for our journey, reflecting upon his late night errand as he called it. What Vilkas did on his spare time was none of my business. I didn’t care. If he wanted to go philandering with women who practised Dibella’s arts, fine by me. What he would not do is come into my home that I had generously opened up to him and have me worried that a thief had managed to pick my lock. 

My ire must have done the trick because we were ready to depart from Markarth not too long after our conversation. We had packed lightly for our journey going and didn’t have much coming back either. Although Vilkas often preferred going everywhere by foot, I had managed to convince him to use a horse instead. It would make the journey go quicker and we would have to deal with each other less. Going through my lists once more to see if I forgot anything, I already began planning out what I would need to do once I headed to Whiterun. Argis had given us some rations for the next three days as a precaution and we found ourselves ready to go.

Once Vilkas had thanked Argis, I told him to go ahead and meet me at the stables. I wanted to take a moment to compensate Argis for all of the work he had done throughout our stay.

“Thank you for everything, Argis,” I told him. “Know that everything you’ve done has been appreciated. I don’t know when my next trip to Markarth will be, but I should hope that this is enough to tide you with your usual wages.”

I handed him a bag with three hundred gold coins. Once he felt the weight of the bag, he handed it right back to me.

“This is too much for what I’ve done, my thane,” he objected. “You can use this along the road.”

“Inns are cheap and I have more than enough left over from Calcelmo’s payment to tide me over,” I said. “Do take it. You’ve more than earned it.”

He took the coin bag wordlessly. Despite not saying a single word, I knew that he was grateful. He was a good man and a good housecarl. He deserved every bit of gold I could give him and more. I promised myself that if he were ever in Whiterun, he would be treated as though he were the High King of Skyrim himself. 

“My thane, before you go, might I discuss something with you?” Argis asked.

“Certainly,” I said. “What troubles you?”

“It’s not so much what troubles me as what might be troubling you.”

“Nothing troubles me, Argis,” I lied. “Although if you do have something you’d like to share, I’d be happy to hear it.”

“I…I don’t usually discuss matters such as these,” he stammered. “Your shield-brother’s behaviour this morning…do not be so hasty in judging him.”

“I’m not judging him,” I said. “Vilkas is free to do as he wants. So long as he remains loyal to the Companions and fights well, the rest is meaningless.”

“Talk to him,” Argis urged. “I suspect that not everything is as it appears.”

“I will keep it in mind. I have no intentions on ruining a friendship over this, but I do not like being unpleasantly surprised. Wait, were you the one who handed him a key?”

“I was,” Argis answered. “He said he had something he needed to do before he left. He didn’t say anything more. I apologize for not disclosing that to you, my thane, but I thought he could be trusted.”

“No, Argis,” I said. “There is no need to apologize. I think I am just out of sorts this morning. The sooner I can get to Jorrvaskr, the better. Speaking of my shield-brother, I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“I wish you both a safe journey back to Whiterun. May the Divines watch over you along the road and in your adventures. Bring honour to yourselves and Skyrim.”

“I shall do my best,” I promised. “Be well, Argis. If any issues arise, you know how to contact me.”

“You have my honour.”

I left Vlindrel Hall soon after and exited to the city. A deep ache welled inside my chest. The week in Markarth had been charmed. The lack of responsibilities was a rarity, but this was not my home. I yearned to hold my girls, sleep in my bed, and see my fellow Companions once more. As the gates closed behind me, I bid the city farewell. I was homebound now and soon, Markarth would be another adventure to recount.

Vilkas waited for me at the stables as I had instructed. _Good, he at least packed what little we had on both horses_ , I thought.

“Let’s go,” I ordered. “We have a lot of ground to cover and I’m convinced that we can do it in a day if we’re dedicated.”

“Fine, Harbinger,” he said.

Tugging on my horse’s reins, we went towards the main road and found ourselves on the familiar road to Whiterun. It was a beautiful day for riding, neither too warm nor too cold, with the occasional pleasant breeze. With such ideal conditions and a brisk pace, there was no question we could make it to Jorrvaskr in no time. Once I was there, I would briefly return with Vilkas at Jorrvaskr and inform Farkas and Aela of our successful job. Following that, I could get back to Breezehome for a bit and forget that this week had ever happened.

“Slow down!”

That was when I noticed Vilkas was a good couple of feet behind me. I sighed and slowed down, bringing my horse to a light trot. We would _never_ get back to Whiterun by night at this rate.

“Keep up, brother,” I said.

“Alright, enough,” he snapped. “What is this about?”

“What is what about?” I demanded, keeping my eyes straight on the road.

“Up until this morning, you were completely fine with taking two days to get to Whiterun. Now you’re riding as if you’re possessed. Is something wrong at Jorrvaskr?”

“No, of course not.”

A creeping feeling of guilt started to settle. Of course he would figure my goal of getting back to Whiterun quickly would have something to do with the Companions. Why else would a responsible Harbinger want to return to Jorrvaskr?

“I’d never withhold information about the status of our shield sisters and brothers. This doesn’t concern them,” I told him.

He would never tell me, but I knew he was relieved. I didn’t blame him. If my head were even remotely in the right place, I would have thought the same.

“Look. I have been curt all morning,” I admitted. “But I have other matters pressing on my mind that don’t involve you.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that I went to the Temple of Dibella?” he asked.

 _And now you have decided to be an absolute shit_ , I thought.

“I figured that’s where you went. You’ve never smelled so good in the time that I’ve known you,” I said. “And quite frankly, I don’t care. What you do with Dibella and her practitioners is your business. But I had a moment this morning where I thought that I would have to deal with an intruder coming into my home, so forgive me if your trivial “errand” upset me.”

“My trivial errand, if you must know, was for my brother,” he said.

“Oh really?” I asked. “Decided to test out one of Dibella’s lovely ladies so that you could tell your brother all about it?”

"No, and I think you forget that Dibella is not only about sexual pleasure,” he retorted.

“Ah, I see. Farkas is in love,” I joked.

“He is and I wouldn’t laugh about it if I were you,” he said.

The words stopped me in my tracks. I turned to Vilkas and hoped that I would find some trace of good humour on his face. That sinking feeling in my stomach that came with his tone told me there would be none of that when I looked at him. His icy blue eyes bore into mine. He was serious. There were many things Vilkas teased him about. This was not one of them and if his demeanour was anything to go by, I knew exactly why.

“I see,” I said, and cleared my throat. “How long has he…had feelings for her?”

“Long enough,” he muttered. “Though Divines only know why he fell in love with her.”

“Well maybe after dealing with your sweet disposition after all these years, anyone else would be comparatively better,” I suggested.

He glared at me here and wordlessly resumed riding. The only noise that passed between both of us for the next couple of hours was the clacking of hooves. Farkas’ affections were not a conversation I wanted to have with Vilkas. I should have never mentioned anything and let his errand be his own business. Considering that Farkas…that was a hasty conclusion, but I felt it in my gut. That was something else I would have to deal with when I went back to Whiterun. How was another question, and not one I felt like contemplating on the road while the man in question’s twin brother was looming next to me.

As late afternoon approached, we arrived at Rorikstead. “Rorikstead is a nice enough little hamlet, but a boring posting for a guard,” the guards in Whiterun would often tell me. As it came into my vision, I could see that it was cozy. It reminded me of Riverwood in some sense, though even smaller despite having more farmland. Lokir, the horse thief I encountered on the cart on my way to Helgen, had said he was from Rorikstead. I always thought of him whenever I passed by the town during my travels, but never stopped. I would have passed by it again had it not been for the piercing cry that reverberated throughout the entire village.

The terror I had felt this morning settled into my stomach once more. _Divines, not now_ , I groaned. There was no denying its existence as it released another shout. Vilkas looked at me and I pointed to the sky. There it was, a creature as awesome as it was terrifying circling above Rorikstead. The villagers began to shriek uncontrollably. I flung myself off of the horse and charged towards the village. I would not allow another town to lose its life and its livelihood.

“Protect yourselves!” I shouted.

No sooner had I said that did the dragon hover above us and release an icy blast. The villagers began to flee towards their homes. The guards there had shields with a mare on it. _Balgruuf’s men_ , I thought. It was a small silver lining in an otherwise dire situation. They pulled out their quivers and released a torrent of arrows towards the dragon. Some managed to successfully hit the dragon’s side, but these were minor irritations to the beast. It let out another burst of ice and some of the guards were now sealed in ice.

The dragon perched onto the roof of what appeared to be the inn. Its scales were the colour of snow, yet they reminded me of ice in the sunlight. Its wings, unlike the two other dragons I had encountered early in my time in Skyrim, were tattered. Black spikes lined its back and its tail resembled a spade. Its eyes were cerulean, glowing even in their sunken sockets. It let out another shriek, a noise now all too familiar to me, before proceeding to release yet another sheet of ice. I narrowly dodged it and hid behind a wooden pillar of a house.

“Get down for a moment,” I heard someone whisper.

“Vilkas?” I asked and turned around to see that it was indeed by shield-brother.

“Who else? You forgot your satchel.”

“I don’t have time for the satchel!” I snapped.

“Yes you do. I found two frost resistance potions.”

“Two?” I said. “You do not need to…”

“Do you seriously think I would let you fight this alone?” he snapped.

“You’re not fully…”

“I am damn well fully recovered and I have already used a potion.”

“Fine you stubborn bastard,” I said, grabbing the phial from his hand. I gulped the frost resistance potion, its coldness nearly numbing my tongue and my throat.

“I’ll lure it down from the roof,” I told him. “If we can get it on to the ground, we’ll have a better chance of fighting it.”

“Aye.”

I was about to stand up when he grabbed my wrist. Just about ready to chew off his head for making us waste time, he said, “Divines be with you, dragonborn.”

Dragonborn. There it was, a reminder that this was my duty and my responsibility. I wouldn’t have let him fight with me if he hadn’t been so insistent. This should have been my burden to bear alone. It had been since the moment I had arrived in Skyrim. I knew I should have dissuaded him more than I did, but I found myself saying, “And you as well. Act quickly once it lands.” He nodded and I went off to face the beast.

When I re-entered into the fray, I could see that around half of Balgruuf’s men were frozen either because the ice fully entrapped them or only partially did so. Releasing my own fiery _thu’um_ , I was able to thaw most of the ice off of them. After their initial shock, they resumed their efforts to take down the beast. They continued to use their arrows, though it remained equally as ineffective as before. It still remained on its perch, allowing its icy breath to freeze all that came in its path. _No_ , I thought. _It’s time that I take matters into my own hands._

“ _Krif zu’u nikriin!_ ” I shouted. _Fight me, coward_.

The dragon now turned its glowing blue eyes towards me and let out another screech. I proceeded to run out of the village and towards the open field by the main road. It jumped off of the rooftop and stalked me, its icy blast not trailing too far behind me. Every once in a while, I could feel a chill hit my back, but nothing to the extent that I would have felt had Vilkas not thought of providing me with the frost resistance potion.

Once I made my way onto the field, the beast landed right before me. Its landing shook the ground and it proceeded to unleash a _thu’um_ that nearly made me lose my balance. _Aus_ , it had said. My time with the Greybeards had been limited, but even I didn’t need to be fluent in the language of dragons to know exactly what it had said: suffer. It chilled me to my bones. A dragon as ancient and as powerful could certainly make me suffer, but I refused to let it get the best of me. I swung my axe into the grass and hit the soil. It would not move me.

The aftershocks of its _thu’um_ subsided, giving me the chance to react.

“ _Fus ro dah!_ ” I shouted, and it was enough to push the dragon back a bit as I dislodged my axe.

Taking advantage of its distraction, I swung the battleaxe at its large shoulder. A dragon’s scales were known for being difficult to permeate. You could hack away at them all you wanted, but sometimes even the sharpest steel could bounce back like a dull axe against timber. The rumours and legends claimed that the only material that could immediately pierce the mighty beasts were dragonbone weapons. These were scarce since dragons had not been sighted in ages. Any remaining pieces of dragonbone armour were likely too well hidden to recover. I was one of the few who had dragonbone available, but even then, I was unsure how to manipulate it. In absence of such a powerful weapon, my glass battleaxe would have to do. It was partially successful; it had caused a gash, tearing at some of the scales and causing some blood to drip. The dragon released a high-pitched shriek and lunged at me, its sharp teeth nearly catching the skin of my neck.

It was about to make another dive towards me when it released yet another sharp shout. Something must have caused it pain. _Vilkas_ , I thought. Its ugly head snapped to look behind and let out another stream of icy breath. Taking advantage of the beast’s distraction, I swung my axe more at its neck, at least causing another gash. Between Vilkas and I, it wasn’t sure where it turn its attention to first. It moved around now, trying to thrash its tail at both of us. Balgruuf’s men, to their credit, came back and started to assist us once more with their arrows. Defeating a dragon was not an immediate kill. It was about wearing it down enough that it lost its strength. Having weapons was effective to an extent, but I had one advantage being dragonborn and I planned on using it.

Releasing yet another _thu’um_ , I watched the fire spill forth towards the dragon. Now its once shimmery scales were charred and black. It lost all interest in Vilkas and focused on me. It was too quick for me and shot an icy blast my way. This was not the slight coldness I felt earlier; unlike a Nightprowler’s ice shard, it was immediately chilling and threatened to numb your body in moments. When I looked down at my bracers, I could see that they had some frost on them. I imagined much of my armour did. The effects of the frost potion were beginning to wear off now. I needed to act quicker or else we would both end up frozen.

Vilkas must have noticed that the dragon had turned its efforts to me because I saw him charge towards the creature and slash its side. It reluctantly pried its focus away from me for a moment to try and shake Vilkas off of it. That was more than enough time for me to use another _thu’um_.

“ _Gaan lah haas!_ ” I shouted. _Draining vitality._

A purple smoke surrounded the dragon for a moment and I could see its blue eyes slightly glazed. Though the effects would not last for too long, as a _thu’um_ never did on dragons, it provided Vilkas and I enough of a window of opportunity to cause some lasting damage. Vilkas continued hacking at it with its sword, giving it another distraction in its already somewhat dazed state. I managed to get to its tail unnoticed. _By the Divines, may I actually be able to pull this off_ , I thought to myself, or at least I prayed I did. I climbed up top the beast and slowly, yet quickly made my way to the nape of its neck. I raised the axe above my head now and brought it down to the beast’s skull. The dragon arched its head back in pain and it tried flinging me off as though I were a pesky fly. By some stroke of luck, I managed to hold onto one of its spikes with every bit of effort I had. They cut into my gauntlets and my hands began to bleed. _Push through the pain_ , I told myself. _You do this, and you will succeed in taking it down_.

Vilkas, I would find out later, had slashed at its chest, allowing me to hold on for a bit longer. Its movements were becoming slower and disoriented. The strike to its now bleeding skull was draining it of its life. Pulling myself back up on its back, I knew I had my chance to conquer the beast. The scales around its head injury had flaked away, revealing its tender skin. I raised my axe once more and buried it deep into its skull. It let out one final bloodcurdling scream and slumped forward.

I felt the moment that it took its last breath. It ceded itself to my power, acknowledging my victory. There was no bitterness or resentment. That was the cost of a battle and it knew that. As those strange yet familiar wisps of silver drifted right towards me, I closed my eyes and allowed the dragon’s soul to become a part of me. When I opened my eyes once more, the world was sharper and brighter. The fight had taken quite a bit of my strength, yet a new surge of energy burst through me.

I jumped down from its back just on time. With its soul absorbed, the dragon remained a husk of bones and scales. It was an extraordinary sight, yet I knew what it meant all too well: the dragons had never vanished. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading <3


	9. Chapter 9

Moments later, the people of Rorikstead trickled out of their homes and came towards the field, eager to see the dragon’s corpse. Their whispers buzzed around me and I could faintly make out their words over the sound of the blood that was still rushing to my ears. “A dragon in Rorikstead? Who would think it?” or “I would have never believed it if I hadn’t seen it.” The relief in their voice was clear; no one was gravely injured and the village was largely unaffected. The only thing that remained of the dragon’s attack was the sheet of ice and its corpse, all which would come to be tales in due time.

Vilkas nudged me to turn around, drawing my attention to two men. Both were close enough in stature and were bald, yet their features set the apart. One of the men had dark eyes and a gaze that told me he had been hardened with years of fighting, perhaps loss. He kept his lips in a tight line, as if unwilling to smile. His companion, on the other hand, though his face was more lined, had pleasant grin. He had brown eyes that twinkled with jovialness underneath a set of thick grey eyebrows. The pair was surprisingly well dressed for such a small settlement, the one with the sterner features wearing a lilac overcoat and his friend opting to wear a burgundy one.

“You,” the sterner man said, his thick Nord accent peering through. “Are you the one who defeated this creature?”

“My shield-brother assisted me,” I said, then turned to the guards here. “And you as well. Your service to the hold has been invaluable.”

“The Harbinger sells herself short,” Vilkas said. “She is the one who climbed on the beast’s back and slayed it.”

“She didn’t just slay it!” one of the guards exclaimed. “She absorbed its soul! I have a cousin in Whiterun who saw such a thing about a year ago!”

My stomach knotted here. I had hoped no one had noticed that part.

“And her _thu’um_!” another guard added. “Enough to shake the ground! Sent that beast right back to wherever it came from.”

The guards, I noticed, had taken off their helmets. Some of them were young lads and lasses, but they stared at me with the utmost reverence. It wouldn’t be the first time I had been greeted by such starry-eyed folk. There was even another lad who didn’t wear the guard’s uniform that I noticed who shared the same look. That wasn’t limited to the younger ones; even the more hardened of Balgruuf’s guards had their faces light up in what looked like awe. They would doubtlessly tell whoever they knew that they had witnessed the dragonborn fighting. I had to turn away from them.

“Ah. The legendary dragonborn herself,” the other man noted. He wasn’t from Skyrim, I noticed. _A Breton?_ I wondered.

“Dragonborn?” the sterner man asked. “What sort of nonsense is this?”

“Not nonsense, old friend,” the other man said. “Or if it is, just as much nonsense as that dragon’s corpse.”

The other man approached the dragon’s skeleton now. He ran his hand on the bones, almost as though he were trying to convince himself that there was still a possibility this was a nightmare. I grimaced watching him. He must have known what the others would only come to grips with once tonight had passed and the respite from danger subsided. The other man laid a hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him, causing him to nod.

He returned to us once more and asked, “You said you’re the Harbinger of the Companions?”

“I am,” I said.

“The renown Anyaie Sylanitte herself,” the Breton said. “With her shield-sibling, one of the wolf-twins. Which one are you?”

“Vilkas Whitemane,” he answered.

“Mighty Talos!” one of the guards cried out. “I once heard that he slew an entire crypt of draugr with a dagger!”

“Alright, enough of all of you,” the Nord said. “If you keep this up, you’ll run them out of the village.”

“Don’t mind their enthusiasm, or Rorik’s gruffness,” the Breton said, letting out a chuckle as he affectionately clapped his friend on the back. “I think I speak for both of us when I say thank you for your service, Companions.”

“We require no such thanks. Who are you, my good man?” I asked.

“Jouane Manette,” he answered. “Welcome to Rorikstead. I do wish we would have you as our guests under better circumstances, but it was fortuitous that you did come on time. For that, my companion and I would like to reward you.”

“If I may, Jouane,” a man interjected.

This man had thinning brown hair and was beginning to bald at the crown of his head. Unlike the other two men we encountered, his clothes were simple.

“Yes, Mralki?” Jouane asked.

“I was going to suggest that they stay in Rorikstead for the evening at my inn with no cost,” Mralki answered.

“An excellent idea,” Jouane said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Rorik?”

“Indeed,” Rorik said.

“In fact, what I do believe what my friend meant was that we will both compensate you out of our own pockets,” Jouane continued, giving Rorik a look that suggested he should agree with him.

“Of course,” Rorik said, releasing a sigh.

“But before that, why don’t we settle you both in the inn for the night and ensure that you are healed?”

“That would be gracious,” I said.

***

The Frostfruit Inn reminded me much of the Sleeping Giant in Riverwood. Amongst the low lighting and the familiar smell of ale, I half-expected to see Orgnar or Hod, but found I only recognized Mralki. Surprisingly, it was even smaller than the Sleeping Giant and with fewer rooms. It made sense at least; nothing exciting ever happened in Rorikstead save the occasional traveller. The dragon must have been the most newsworthy event to happen in at least a decade.

Once Mralki led us to our chambers, we met Jouane in my room to check our injuries. Vilkas saw that I was about to object and proceeded to clearing his throat. _You have done enough for one day_ , his look told me. He was right. It would have been hasty for me to offer my help anyhow. The rush that I received earlier from absorbing the dragon’s soul was waning. We could try to force ourselves to get back to Whiterun by nightfall, but it would only exhaust us more than anything. It was wiser to stay the evening in Rorikstead and ensure we were well enough to travel the next day.

“Let’s begin with you, Harbinger,” Jouane anounced.

With a few words, a golden light appeared in his hands. He let the light hover in his hands before placing a hand on my head. He wasn’t targeting a specific area since I had suffered no significant injury. This spell was something of a quick heal. It was enough to go through the entire body and take care of anything minor, such as bruises and cuts, but not enough to do anything more than that.

“Sylanitte,” he said. “Breton?”

“Manette, also Breton?” I asked.

He let out a chuckle here. “Correct. Good meeting another one of my kind out here. What originally brought you to Skyrim, friend? The dragons?”

“Unforeseeable circumstances, including the dragons. I had no intention to stay, but I’ve made a life and a home here. How about you?”

“I followed Rorik after the Great War,” he answered. “I know. Skyrim is nowhere as pretty as High Rock, but the old grump is dear to me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. How about you, Companion? A native to Skyrim I’d imagine?”

“Aye,” Vilkas answered.

“Of course. There are stories about you and your twin, Farkas I believe,” Jouane said, now walking over to Vilkas. “You’ve both acquired quite the reputations, and so young too.”

Jouane put a hand on top of Vilkas’ head and a glowing golden light followed. Though it was a good spell, it was no easy one to cast. I remember my father sometimes looking drained after casting it on two or three people and I considered him skilled. Jouane, for his part, happily spoke on as he healed Vilkas, while Vilkas shot me a look that told me if the Breton didn’t shut up, he would say something he regretted. I smirked here and did nothing.

“Hmmm. You’ve been healed recently?” he asked Vilkas.

“Last night,” Vilkas said. “I suffered injury at the hands of a Dwarven Centurion about a week ago.”

“The abdomen and the head mainly. Quite the head injury too, it feels like,” Jouane noted. “Must have taken a very skilled healer to perform such good work on you.”

“She is,” Vilkas said.

Jouane flashed me a knowing smile. It was genuine understanding and even a hint of good-natured amusement. Perhaps he knew what it was to heal someone he cared about dearly. For my part, I might have felt heat rise to my cheeks.

“Thankfully, there hasn’t been that much to heal for either of you,” Jouane said, now letting his hand drop away from Vilkas’ head.

“Thank you for your kindness, Jouane,” I said. “We’re much obliged.”

“Oh my dear lass. There’s no need to thank me! You’ve done us a greater service than I could ever repay and…ah. Well. Well. Well. _Well_. Look who finally came.”

Sure enough, there was Rorik with a surly look on his face. Jouane grinned at him, completely unfazed by his crankiness. I wondered what about this cranky Nord had made Jouane so willing to follow him away from High Rock.

“I did. I wanted to reward the Companions. Here,” he said, handing Vilkas and I heavy bags. “This is from my personal coffers. We may not be as wealthy as jarls, but what we do have, we provide wholeheartedly.”

“We cannot accept this,” I said. “Please. We do not require compensation.”

“Truly,” Vilkas added. “Your people have been generous in allowing us to stay at your inn with no cost and healing us.”

“I insist,” Rorik said.

I was about to protest again when he walked off moments later. Vilkas shrugged at me and jangled the bag full of coins. It would figure that he would make a show before taking it himself.

“I haven’t heard him be that prolific in years!” Jouane said. “I’d say this is the closest thing either of you will be getting to a compliment from him.”

“It was not necessary…” I started.

“Please, Harbinger,” Jouane cut in. “You are well-intentioned, but this is something that means a lot to Rorik. Otherwise, he would not have done it at all.”

“Suits me just fine,” Vilkas said, now tossing the bag in his hands. “I’ve been meaning to expand my personal library. Your man’s coin here will contribute to that.”

“Vilkas,” I hissed under my breath.

He thought for a moment before rectifying his statement.

“What I meant is that this will greatly expand the Companions’ library in Jorrvaskr,” he said, so genuinely that I thought it was sincere. “Even though Farkas has probably not touched a book in years, Aela would sooner use them for target practice, and the others are too busy squabbling amongst themselves to care.”

“Nine Divines, you’re insufferable,” I mumbled.

Jouane let out a hearty laugh and said, “It pleases me greatly that the Companions will be able to expand their knowledge, personal or otherwise.”

“Could we trouble you for one last thing?” I asked before Vilkas could make a further ass of himself.

“You know I’ll hardly consider it a trouble. What do you require?”

“Is there a stream nearby?”

“Want to bathe before resting? Eastwards, past the fields, there’s a small pond. Relatively secluded as well.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“My pleasure,” he answered. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting your return here. I, for one, look forward to a hearty drink to celebrate your victory.”

The healer left us with those parting words and we headed off to the pond. To our luck, it wasn’t too far of a walk from Rorikstead itself and it was easy to find. There didn’t appear to be many wolves or other beasts around the area, which was a welcome change. There had been too many times early on in my adventuring where I had been chased off from bathing thanks to a mangy wolf or enraged bear.

“Do you want to go first?” Vilkas asked.

“If that would be fine with you,” I said.

“Good with me. Let me help you with your armour,” he said. “It’ll be quicker than you needing to struggle with it.”

I wanted food, drink, and sleep, so I agreed. He went behind me and proceeded to undo the buckles on the breastplate. It did go much quicker with someone else helping you.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll take off the rest. Watch over my things as I bathe?”

“Aye,” he said.

The rest of the armour was no problem to remove, and as soon as my gambeson was off, I went into the pond. After being in my armour for the entire day, the cool water was a welcome sensation. I dunked my head into the water and ran my fingers through my damp hair. It was enough to quell my weariness and reinvigorate me. It didn’t stop my mind from thinking about the dragon we had encountered and what had brought us to Rorikstead. 

There would be joy and merriment when we returned to the tavern. Vilkas and I would inevitably be lauded as heroes. I would be hailed as the legendary dragonborn and Vilkas as a famed Companion. Word would spread all the way to Whiterun and we would be praised upon our return to Jorrvaskr too. So many craved the fame and glory we had achieved, but all I felt was tightness in my chest. Tomorrow, they would feel it too when they realize that the dragon attack meant that they hadn’t vanished after all, nor was it just a “Stormcloak hoax” or “Imperial scheme.”

Not wanting to hold up Vilkas, I decided to get out of the water and dry myself off. I only put my gambeson back on, leaving my hair loose and combing it out with my fingers as best as I could.

The soft grass tickled my feet as I walked towards our armour and sat down next to it. I sighed here and knotted my fingers through the blades of grass. It was a beautiful evening, so still and so peaceful. The sky was a mixture of mellow orange and soothing pinks. It should have been reassuring after the chaos we experienced. I wanted it to be. It couldn’t, not when it was that false sense of security that had made me fail as my duty as dragonborn.

“I thought dragons had vanished again,” I heard Vilkas say while he was bathing.

“So did I,” I answered.

When a month passed without a single attack, I thought nothing of it. Two passed, then three, with no reports from any guards. It was strange at first, but I didn’t mind it. No dragons meant no more danger than usual. A year trickled by like that and I did nothing to question it. It was easier absorbing myself in other tasks, pretending that the dragons hadn’t been the reason I was in Skyrim in the first place. Now I chided myself. I should have known better. When things are too peaceful or too still, it can never bode well.

“I had a dream last night. The dragon I saw at Helgen,” I found myself saying. “Perhaps this was the Divine’s way of alerting me that my role as dragonborn was far from over.”

No response here. It was probably better that he didn’t reply anyways. Vilkas could be sharp when he wanted to be and in moments of wallowing, it did no one any good. It wasn’t as if the self-pity accomplished anything either. It wasn’t suitable behaviour from a Harbinger or dragonborn. My duty was to the people of Skyrim and all of Tamriel. The thought was like a dagger to the stomach. It was _my_ duty. 

“I got too comfortable. I should have known better,” I admitted.

Vilkas now sat down next to me, only wearing his padded pants. It was one of those strange yet small intimacies we had developed during Markarth. A part of me would miss that closeness when we returned to Whiterun, though I would never tell him that.

“We all became complacent,” he said.

“Perhaps, but it is not the job of these innocent villagers to worry about why the dragons have returned. That is my task and I have failed at it,” I said.

“Not a failure, necessarily,” Vilkas corrected. “More of a second chance.”

“So the Divines are giving me a nudge in the right direction?” I asked.

“More like a shove, but aye,” Vilkas said, and I found myself snorting here. Still, that raised a problem.

“Then I would need to be away from Jorrvaskr for a while,” I told him. “However, I do not like abandoning my post as Harbinger.”

“It will be waiting for you once you return,” he assured. “You’ve brought great honour and glory to the Companions since your arrival and for that, you have our loyalty.”

“We brought glory to the Companions,” I said. “A Harbinger is nothing without the Companions that surround them.”

“You remain too modest,” Vilkas said.

“No Vilkas,” I said. “I just remember where I came from and I will never forget it so long as I remain in this world.”

Vilkas knew the details and outlines of my life with a couple of anecdotes sprinkled here and there. He knew about how I came to Skyrim and bits and pieces about my life in High Rock. Though a good deal of his childhood tales came from Farkas, he occasionally shared some bright moments with me when he was drunk. Coincidentally, that was also the time he was most nostalgic. It didn’t take him being drunk to find about the losses he had endured in his life. We bonded through the Companions and our bond had exceeded that. The small intimacies, the tiny ways he showed me his friendship…those were all things I held close to my heart. As I watched him fiddle with a strand of grass, I wondered if he felt the same way.

“You are a better woman that I would ever be,” he said.

“It doesn’t help that you aren’t a woman in this case,” I pointed out, and I heard him chuckle.

“You are a better person is what I meant to say,” he said, now pulling at another blade of grass. “And…I am sorry for worrying you this morning. You were under duress and I should have recognized it.”

“Is ‘duress’ your nice way of saying I was being an asshole?” I asked, sweetly.

“I’m apologizing. Don’t put words into my mouth,” he said but I could see a crooked smile on his face.

“Apology accepted. I apologize for my disposition this morning,” I said. “I believe you when you say you went for Farkas and I think that is a kind act.”

“As dense as he may be, he is my twin. I guess there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him.”

With sunset fading away and nightfall coming near, the evening was starting to become chilly. A gust of wind rustled the grass. Vilkas grew quiet here and I could see his eyes fixed on the pond. There was something he was struggling with and I suspected it had something to do with Farkas’ errand at the Temple of Dibella.

“Farkas loves me, does he not?” I asked.

“Yes. He loves you,” he answered. “Don’t tell me this is news to you. I thought it was obvious.”

“I…suspected he had affection for me, but not to that extent,” I confessed.

“He is a good man, Anyaie,” Vilkas said. “Better than I will ever be. If you choose to be with him, be kind. I know he is not always the brightest, but the man has a heart bigger than a sabre cat’s.”

I was about to tell him that Farkas could tell me himself if he truly felt that way, yet the words vanished on my lips as soon as I saw the look on his face. I knew then that Farkas, whether or not he had told Vilkas to make a tribute at the temple, would have never put his twin up to telling me his feelings. This had been Vilkas doing a favour for his brother. He had taken a risk and I knew it. The thought made my stomach churn. What could I tell him in that moment? That though I certainly had affection for Farkas, I didn’t know if I could act upon that?

“I need to think about it before I make a decision,” I said. “Though we are all equals in the Companion, I cannot afford to only think with my heart. Farkas is still my shield-brother and should the relationship sour, it would be problematic for everyone involved.”

“A wise woman, as you always are,” he said.

“I am not wise, just cautious,” I said. “But truly Vilkas, I admire your dedication to your brother and he holds a special place in my heart as well. In the meantime, you have my word that I will not speak a word of this to him.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Do not thank me yet. Regardless of what I may or may not feel for him, the solution may simply be to not engage in a relationship with him at all. My priority as Harbinger is harmony and peace amongst all of us. I hope that if that time comes, you will both understand.”

“I do,” Vilkas said. “And I know Farkas will too, no matter what your decision. I trust your judgment, as does he.”

“Perhaps that is not wise,” I said. “I did think that the dragons vanished when they didn’t.”

“Ah. Don't hold that against yourself,” Vilkas said. “If I can speak frankly…”

I gave him a disbelieving look and he corrected himself by saying, “More than usual. You’re…not only dragonborn, but perhaps the noblest woman I know. You will find a way to rectify this. I would be honoured to follow you and be at your aid if you would need it.”

“That would honour me greatly,” I told him. “I’d drink to that.”

“And surviving another day?” he asked.

“And surviving another day,” I echoed.

He shared a rare smile with me here. For all of the grimaces and frowns he gave, the few times he did smile changed his face entirely. This wasn’t his mocking smirk or mischievous grin. This was something more genuine. It brought out the brightness of his eyes and softened his features. It made me wish we were still in Markarth together. 

“Should we go back?” I whispered, not trusting myself to ask anything more.

“We should,” he agreed.

We armed ourselves once more and returned to the Frostfruit Inn. The people of Rorikstead treated us like heroes. The ale flowed easily and the food was abundant for such a small village. Rorik made an appearance once more, with Jouane by his side chattering away to all that would listen. Vilkas and I were asked to recount our exploits as Companions, and so we told our best tales, all the while the bard sang “The Dragonborn Comes” in my honour. Of all the uncomfortable parts that came with being dragonborn, the honor and rewards were often the easiest ones to manage. That sort of praise gushed forward when people’s tongues were loose with drink and their minds put at ease after a brush with death.

Those red eyes from my dream came back to me as I downed another round of ale. Tonight’s mirth would ebb when the grim reality of our situation would dawn upon us once more. It was only a matter of time. It always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	10. Chapter 10

_Fredas, 15_ _th_ _day of Second Seed, 4E 202_

My legs ached as I walked up the steep steps to Jorrvaskr. It served me right for riding as if I were possessed, although there would have been no need for me to come back if I didn't flee Riverwood. I groaned as I put another wobbly leg forward in front of the other.

This was not how I pictured returning home from my first job for the Companions. The sight of the mead hall should have been a welcome sight after everything I endured. Instead, all I wanted was some solitude and a chance to lick my wounds. _No more jobs in Riverwood_ , I promised myself as I entered the Jorrvaskr. I was grateful that the hall was silent. The only person to greet me was Tilma, who was busy arranging the banquet table.

"Welcome back, dearie. How did your first job go?" she asked, giving me a kind smile.

"Well enough. I slayed the beast," I answered, shrugging.

"Then why do you look like someone just stole your sweet roll?"

"No reason, but thank you for your concern. Is Aela here?"

"She should be training with the others. Go see her. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear you were successful."

"I want to unpack first. If you see her before I do, would you mind letting her know I'm here?"

"You're following me first," a voice commanded.

My back stiffened, and I stifled an annoyed groan. I turned behind me to see Vilkas, donning his usual scornful look. It was a shame; he would almost be handsome if he wasn't perpetually scowling. Something must have crawled up his ass in the last twenty-odd years and refused to leave. There was nothing more I wanted than to tell him to fuck off and leave me alone. If he wanted to discuss the Riverwood job, it would have to wait.

"Now Vilkas. At least give her a moment to settle in. She got back on her first job, and successfully at that," Tilma chided.

Vilkas turned to the older woman, arms folded, but his eyes settled on me although he was addressing Tilma. "She will have plenty of time to settle in once I'm done talking to her."

"Can this wait?" I asked.

"No."

I realized there was no sense in arguing with him if he was in such a foul mood, but then, he was always in a foul mood. "Fine. Lead the way, Companion."

He tilted his head to motion me to follow him and, without waiting to see if I had listened, continued to the living quarters. I followed him down the stairs, trying not to wince as I went down each step. _Whatever he wants to tell me off for, Riverwood or not, it better be worth having to go down these damned steps,_ I thought. I tried not to let my eyes linger on the whelp chambers as we passed by. It was empty right now. He took away the one chance I had to be alone before the others returned, and for what? Some useless complaint?

Vilkas led me to his quarters. It was the first time I had been inside a Circle's members' chambers. The gossip was that the Circle had the most spacious rooms, but then, anything seemed more spacious when you were sharing a room with four other people. The gossip was true. His room was bigger than what we whelps shared, with his double bed that was neatly made. It was also furnished with a desk full of scrolls at the corner of the room. The shelf was filled to the brim with books and various trinkets, including what I thought were ice wraith teeth. I wondered if he even noticed he had prime alchemical ingredients lying around without being used. It pained my inner alchemist.

Vilkas passed behind the divider near his bed and walked out with a stack of books seconds later. _What is he doing?_ I wondered as he started placing them on the shelves. _Did he seriously summon me down here so I could watch him rearrange his book collection?_ I thought. My body ached, and I was exhausted, as well as hungover. If he wanted to rip into me for my poor behavior, he should just get it over with instead of having me guess what awful thing I did this time.

"You summoned me down here?" I prompted.

"I hear there was an incident with Njada," he said.

"There was," I answered, gritting my teeth here. This was starting a line of questioning I didn't want to answer.

"She said the entire courtyard shook as you yelled at her."

"That is the gist of it, but it isn't quite what it seems."

Vilkas stopped his book shuffling, looking at me as if he didn't believe a single word I said, then returned to his task. My patience was running thin. If he wanted to put all his precious books away, he could do that on his own time. I would rather go back to my room to pretend Riverwood didn't happen.

He shoved the last book into my hands. It was black, with the symbol of the empire etched silver in the middle of it—a dragon surrounded by wings to form a diamond shape. My legs nearly gave out here. He knew. No one in the courtyard indicated that Eorlund's reasoning of me enchanting my armor was anything other than true. Now I questioned just how many of them had suspected, or if Vilkas remained the only one.

"I don't like being lied to, whelp. So we're going to try this again. Either tell me what happened in the courtyard or I'll pry it out of you," he said, glowering over me. He was close, a bit too close. I took a step back here, not tearing my eyes away from him. I refused to let him intimidate me as he often did. Companion or not, I didn't like people prying into my life.

"You think you know who I am, don't you?" I asked, trying to match his searing gaze.

"It wasn't hard to figure out with the whispers amongst the holds."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. _Great. He's put me in a position where I have no choice but to be honest_ , I thought. He was smart enough to make sense of the evidence. I hated this, and I hated myself more. If I hadn't been so sloppy with Njada, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

"I might be Dragonborn, but…"

"Let's get one thing clear. I don't give a damn about old prophecies. I don't care about your statuses or titles. Actions speak for themselves. When you're here, you're an equal. You get no special treatment."

"I never expected anything else," I said, and Vilkas scoffed at me.

"Really? Is that why you lied to Kodlak and I when you came?"

My heart sank into my stomach, unable to mask my discomfort at his revelation. I wanted to say it was the horrible day I had, but Vilkas saw right through me. He knew his words got the reaction he wanted.

"So the rumors are true," he said, eying me with newfound condescension. He snatched the book back from me and placed it on the shelf. _Infuriating asshole_.

"What rumors?" I asked, hoping he didn't hear the nervousness edging into my voice. Vilkas knew more than I assumed. _Nosy bastard_.

"You were on a cart to Helgen. Some sort of criminal, they say. You're not some idle traveller from High Rock like you claimed."

"Do you interrogate every recruit in this way?"

"Only the dishonest ones."

I needed to sit down and stay far away from him. He prodded into my business. I didn't like it, or him, one bit. If he wasn't such an intrusive asshole, I would have said something in time. Being Dragonborn was _my_ secret to share, not his. He complained about my trustworthiness, but he did nothing to prove himself to me. I opened my mouth, half-expecting to mention that, but remained silent. If I spoke up, he would take that as a provocation. _Not worth it, Sylanitte, not worth it_ , I thought, hoping it would calm me down. I had to end the conversation before I said or did something I would regret.

"Fine. I apologize for lying. I'll walk a straight line, now can I leave?" I asked.

Vilkas wasn't about to let me go. He barked out a laugh, but the humor didn't reach his eyes."You? Walk a straight line? That's a good one. Between wandering in the courtyard when you're not supposed to, using magic, and intimidating others with your voice, do you think _that's_ walking a straight line?"

Those first two were true enough, although I did offer to use my magic to help him. Since context didn't seem to matter to him, I determined it was unwise to remind him of why I wanted to use my magic in the first place. We agreed not to talk about the incident in the courtyard. Bringing it up then would provoke his temper further and I couldn't afford it, not when I heard the underlying threat in his words. That last point, however, was somewhat untrue.

"That wasn't my Thu'um," I countered.

"Oh? What was it then? An earthquake?" he asked, not bothering to keep the ire out of his voice.

"My Thu'um is much more powerful than what happened in the courtyard. I wouldn't have used it on her."

"How am I supposed to know that? What confidence have you given me in your character? You may have a good arm, but I don't know what Kodlak saw in you that made you so special."

I sighed, looking down at my feet here. That was one thing that I agreed with him. I didn't need him reminding me of it.

"I don't know either. I joined the Companions because I wanted to use my blade for good, for honor. That I'm the Dragonborn shouldn't matter. You have to believe that if nothing else."

"That's enough for one day. You wouldn't want to be the first and only Dragonborn kicked out of the Companions before they had their initiation. Go now and don't cause anymore trouble. "

Vilkas returned to his books, and I presumed our conversation was over. Nothing I would say or do at this point would convince him to trust me. I knew enough that Vilkas was a man of words, not actions. He opposed letting me join the ranks of the Companion when I first arrived. For weeks, I had tiptoed around everyone, hoping that I could blend in if I didn't start any trouble. Now I saw it wouldn't be so simple.

"And no more shouting," he added, still not looking away from his shelf.

I paused at the threshold, glaring at him as he continued to rearrange his collection.

"That was _not_ my Thu'um," I insisted once more.

"Mhmm."

I shook my head, incredulous to his attitude. He was a smart man able to piece together who I was with the evidence presented to him, or maybe he sought it for all I knew. He confronted me with that information and I didn't deny any of it, knowing I couldn't hide it any longer. I hadn't liked it, but I did it. I was truthful once more in telling him I didn't use the Voice on Njada. He chose not to believe me.

"Would you like proof, Companion?" I asked, my tone dangerously low as the Thu'um tickled at my throat. _What would happen if I sent him right into the bookshelf?_ I wondered. He turned back to me, his eyes glowing that same shade of gold I noticed in the courtyard.

Almost as if sensing what I was thinking, he hissed, "I have Kodlak's ear. Don't forget that."

It was unwise for me to stay any longer; I strode towards my quarters, seething over our exchange. There was no reason for him to affect me the way he did. It was so easy to make assumptions about others based on scraps of information. _He was smart enough to figure out you're Dragonborn_ , a voice whispered. _What if he's right about the other parts too?_ I shook my head. No. He may have been right about me being Dragonborn and Helgen, but not the rest. If it hadn't been for everything with Hadvar, I would have sent him to Oblivion in an urn.

I sat on the edge of my bed, lost in thought, angry about what happened. Fuck Vilkas and his attitude. Fuck Hadvar and his sweetness. The tears shouldn't have stung my eyes the way they did, neither should my first job for the Companions feel like a hollow victory.

"Anyaie?" someone called out. "You here?"

I could hear her footsteps quickening towards our room. If I had any intentions of hiding, Ria dashed them the moment she walked through the door. She frowned as soon as she laid eyes on me. I must have looked pathetic out of my training clothes, my dull brown hair tied into a haphazard braid, and my eyes lined with dark circles. This wasn't the way she should see. She sat down next to me here, the bed creaking at both of our weights.

"Tilma told me I might find you here. Did Vilkas tell you off too badly?" Ria asked.

"He did, but it's not him," I admitted, hoping that would satisfy her curiosity so I could be left in peace.

"Did you not kill the sabre cat?" she asked.

"No, no. That was fine. Don't worry about me, please. I will be fine."

"You're not fine now. Tilma noticed you were off as soon as you were back. I don't want to force you to talk, but keeping it inside like this can't be healthy for you."

I let out an empty laugh and looked at her. What wasn't healthy was me pushing away the only man I had ever loved. My fear poisoned and spoiled the closest thing I had to a romantic relationship. Suffering was the consequence of my actions and I only had myself to blame. Ria would try to make me feel better, a caring I didn't think I deserved.

My eyes wandered to the ground as I ran a hand through my hair, undoing my messy braid. "I fucked up, Ria. What else is there to know?" I asked, my voice gravelly. It was bad enough having to admit it to myself, let alone Ria.

"How did you fuck up? Are you talking about Vilkas or Njada? Because Njada had it coming, you know. I can try talking about it with Vilkas and…"

"I don't care about what happened with Njada!" I snapped.

Her eyes narrowed at me here, taken aback by my outburst. Ria didn't deserve my wrath; she wanted to help. All I did was push her further away from me. _I'm an idiot_ , I thought. _I joined the Companions hoping to help others._ Rubbing at my temples, I realizedthe people of Skyrim didn't need help: I did. All I accomplished was scaring someone away with my Thu'um, lying about my identity, and treating people who cared about me like waste. My callousness never hurt before; but then, no one had expected anything other from a distant village whore who so happened to be the healer and the alchemist's daughter. These people expected more from me and I failed them. The guilt wretched at my gut now. I owed it to Ria to make things right.

I laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's nothing to do with Njada or Vilkas. But he didn't help. It's… it's about a man in Riverwood," I explained, softening my tone.

Ria nodded in understanding, listening as I retold what happened with Hadvar. I didn't hold anything back. I explained what happened at Helgen before I recounted the days and nights I had spent with him. Sometimes the nostalgia tugged at my lips, trying to twist them into a smile, but it hurt too much. My voice quavered when I told her I never responded to his letters. The truth of it all came crashing down on me as the tears spilled, just like at The Sleeping Giant only hours ago. Ria took my hands in hers, murmuring that it was going to be fine. I wasn't able to speak about it anymore, but Ria remained a comforting presence. It never struck me that I needed to have someone listen until she was there. I wasn't sure if she would become my shield-sibling, but I had a friend.

"Anyhow, I drove him away and I can't do anything about it. Then our noble companion threatened to out me to Kodlak," I concluded, clearing my throat and wiping away the tears with my sleeves.

"Out you? About Helgen? You've got nothing to worry about. If you're innocent like you claim you are, Kodlak won't care. Vilkas is being a controlling ass."

"It's… it's not just that he knows. He knows who I am. I'm surprised the others don't, or at least, they haven't approached me about it."

"So it's true, then?" she asked.

"Yes, Ria. I'm the Dragonborn, not a traveller from High Rock. I'm sorry I wasn't honest sooner."

I waited for her ire, her disbelief, something to indicate she wasn't happy with me. The tears prickled my eyes again. If Ria would turn away after keeping the truth from her, I'd understand, but it would hurt. My worries washed away with her reassuring smile, hugging me. Under normal circumstances, I would have pushed her away. Hugging others always felt strange. You're standing there, touching, unmoving with someone else, resulting in nothing. Ria proved otherwise, taking the time to find me and offer me comfort. She didn't have to care beyond being the most recent recruit to the Companions after me and occasionally offering some advice. She always went beyond that.

Ria put her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face her, and said, "Listen to me. I remember what it's like being the newest one, wanting to prove yourself. You want to be taken seriously for your own merits, not the assumptions others make of you. Companions earn their glory through deeds, not titles. You're trying to do that too. I respect that and the others will too."

"Will they though?" I asked, wiping my leaky nose with my hand, but only because my sleeves were too damp.

"Eventually. You know how many times Njada called me a Thalmor lover and an Imperial whore?"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Because it shouldn't. And for your Riverwood man? I mean, I'm not good with men but, it sounds like you two had something special. Are you sure you want to give up on it?"

"He'd never take me back at this point." I thought about what she asked. If he would take me back, would I even want to? If I did, why had I gone through the effort of hurting him the way I did?

"You're sure?"

"You didn't see the way he looked at me. His eyes… I broke his heart… I shouldn't have…"

"But you did. You can't run away from those feelings forever. But for now, mourn him. Get him out of your system. Tell you what, why don't we go to The Bannered Mare and get shitfaced together?"

I snorted at the choice of words, but I was in; it might actually be fun having someone else to wallow with. I was about to tell her so until we heard someone clear their throat at the threshold of our room. We both spun our heads to see Aela, eying us curiously as she leaned on the door frame. _I bet she doesn't have to deal with these issues_ , I thought. Aela was one of the most beautiful women I've seen and unfairly so, but that was a different story. It wasn't just that she was good-looking. It was the way she carried herself, as if no man or beast could overcome her. She seemed as with men as she was in battle. Was any man good enough for Aela anyway?

"Is there a problem here, sister?" she asked, addressing Ria.

"Oh, well uh, Anyaie is having some problems," Ria answered, her face turning a bright shade of red.

"Vilkas?" she asked me.

"No. Please. It's fine, Companion…"

Her stoic green eyes softened. She entered the room and laid a tentative hand on my shoulder. I flinched at her touch and resisted the urge to move away. Aela didn't seem like the sympathetic type, neither were we close enough for me to expect such a gesture. She didn't have to be here any more than Ria did. Addled as I was from what happened in Riverwood, I had enough sense to know that you didn't shrug off a kind deed.

"Don't let him intimidate you. We both know how to keep our heads while the men let their hearts rule. No one can make you feel unworthy unless you allow them. Don't forget that, Dragonborn," she said.

Aela offered me a smile. She realized Eorlund lied in the courtyard and chose not to call me out when it happened. At least Aela wasn't reprimanding me as her shield-sibling did. I shouldn't need the encouragement or the praise. I wasn't some silly five-year-old who successfully used a healing spell for the first time when she scraped her knee. All I could do was nod, feeling awkward for not saying anything.

Ria, being my saving grace, asked, "Was there anything else?"

"I came to offer payment for the job in Riverwood. Here," Aela said, handing me a bag filled with gold. "400 Septims."

"400? I would understand 300, but that makes little sense. It was an overgrown cat," I said.

Aela let out a small laugh. "Oh you truly are humble. Well, I wouldn't have paid you that much for it, but turned out the bard is grateful and decided you were worth the extra coin."

"Aela, send 100 back. I can't..."

"No. You earned your keep, new blood. You have brought glory to your name and to the Companions. Be proud. In fact, I have another job lined up for you, but I'd rather you not push yourself. Take the rest of the day off."

"I could take it on," Ria chimed in, her voice ridiculously bright and cheery considering the circumstances. Perhaps that was me being bitter. Anything sounds irritating enough when you're upset.

Aela cocked an eyebrow. "Eager for another job so soon? I have the information here. See me before you go so we can discuss."

Ria's nod was enthusiastic as Aela handed her a parchment paper. She was aglow as though she had been rewarded all the silver from Cidhna Mine.

"I should get back to the whelps in the yard. Come to me with any troubles, new blood. The men may not always get it, but I will. And you," she said, turning to Ria. "You're a true shield-sister. Keep doing what you're doing."

"I will!" Ria said.

One of Aela's brows twitched and Ria cleared her throat before saying, "I will. Thank you, sister."

Aela took her leave, but that dreamy look remained on Ria's face. _Why is she so starry-eyed?_ I thought. Aela was a wonderful warrior, sure, and it was sisterly of her to check in on me the way she did. But Ria's overabundant enthusiasm was bordering on the ridiculous. I was about to make a nasty comment just to spite her, but bit my tongue. It wasn't Ria's fault she was happy and I was not.

"I should get ready for that job in Dawnstar," Ria said, flinging herself off the bed. "Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?"

"I will be," I promised her.

"Good. And hey. If you want to be with someone, you shouldn't be scared to go for it, you know? You might actually be happy that way. Oh wait, that sounds bad. I mean, you don't need a relationship to be happy, but…"

"I know, point taken. Thank you. Now go. Bring honor and if it's a frost troll, try to not get yourself killed."

Ria smirked and ran off to see Aela, giving me a chance to reflect on what she said. I hadn't imagined wanting to be with anyone for more than a night was possible. It served me right after the men whose hearts I broke.

Much to both of my parents' chagrin, there were whispers about me in the village. "That Sylanitte girl would get fucked by anything that moved," or "she's a great fuck, but she's cold." Some were less kind, insinuating I was a worshipper of Dibellan arts or calling me a whore. Whether or not I was a whore, I enjoyed sex. Love was another monster. I never felt a need for it. The most I aspired to "love" before I lived in Skyrim was a marriage of convenience with an absent husband, if only to appease my parents. With their deaths and my unexpected "move" to Skyrim, I stopped considering marriage altogether. Love could fall to the wayside, or at least it did until Hadvar.

_Hadvar_. I laid back in bed and let out a frustrated groan. Gods damn that man. He was the only person who could turn me into a leaking mess of phlegm and tears. No one else could do that to me—not the shitty and selfish farmhand that I lost my virginity to, or the butcher's boy who would bring me flowers, to the plethora of other men who weren't worth my time. No. It took almost dying at Helgen to find the one man who could make me feel anything romantic. Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed at the thought, but it only made me feel worse. I felt ridiculous loving him as much as I did, and for what? The loss and terror we experienced at Helgen? Dibella and Mara, how stupid was I?

_Enough_ , I thought, pulling myself out of bed. _This is pathetic. I need to distract myself._ It was a shame Ria couldn't accompany me to The Bannered Mare, but it didn't stop me from going alone. At least I could drink myself to sleep, or even better, if I found some company while doing so. If not, I could pick a fight with Mikael, the skeevy bard that regularly played at the inn. That settled it.

I decided to fix myself. I brushed out my ashen brown hair, pulling it back into a braid and grinned at the looking glass. Having my hair pulled back highlighted my sharp cheekbones and my narrow chin, all reminders of my distant Elven heritage. The black powder lining my lids brought out the blue in my eyes, which was further accentuated by my choice of a simple pale blue dress. I didn't have the curvaceous figure that some men liked, nor was I as well-endowed as some other women, but the dress still hugged my figure in a way that was altogether flattering. It had been a while since I had bothered paying this much attention to my appearance. Hadvar couldn't have me, but anyone else could for a night, and for free no less. _What a bargain!_ I thought.

By the time I made it upstairs, Ria left while the others were in the yard. Tilma slipped me a sweet roll here and squeezed my shoulder. I grinned at her. The old woman always had our backs. I took a bite of the treat, savoring its sweetness. She never ceased to amaze me. The roll was still hot and the sticky icing coated my fingers, but I'd be damned if it didn't taste exquisite. She must have added a dash of lemon in there because there was a citrusy note to it. On an otherwise awful day, that sweet roll was the only thing that brightened my mood.

The sweet roll made me happy until the front door opened to a terrible smell. I choked over the dessert, spitting it out into my hands. It reminded me of that farmhand, but worse. Whatever appetite I had vanished in an instant. I was sure it smelled like that one time I found a decomposing mouse corpse in the woods. My eyes watered at the stench.

It turned out that the source of the awful odor was none other than Farkas. His long black hair was a disaster with twigs and leaves buried as if some small animal made its home. His typical war paint was smudged from the sweat and dirt on his face. Worse than that, there was something brown and thick on his dented armor. He waved at me, a lopsided grin on his face as if he wasn't covered in goop that slid off his dented armor. A hand rushed to my mouth and nose as if it could calm my roiling stomach.

"Back from your first job?" he asked.

I nodded, but I didn't trust myself to speak. How could one man be so oblivious to his filth and stench? Thankfully, I didn't have to. Skjor came into the hall, looking like he wanted to say something when I saw his entire face twist in disgust. I could have sworn I heard him trying to suppress a gag. I've never sympathized more with a Companion than I did then with Skjor.

"Shor's ball, Farkas! Go clean up! You're stinking the whole hall up with mammoth shit!" Skjor snapped.

"Oh right," Farkas said, flushing underneath the muck on his face, not taking his eyes off me. "Uh, I'll catch you later. I wanna hear about…"

"Now, boy!" Skjor boomed, and Farkas scampered.

Skjor went outside soon after, probably to breathe, leaving the door open behind him to air out the hall. Tilma heard Skjor's yelling and started cleaning Farkas' mess. I offered to help, but she waved me off, telling me to get into a new pair of clothes. According to her, shit has a way of clinging to fabric. I did as she told me, but I was more worried about the lingering odor in my nostrils.

As I headed out of the whelp quarters, I saw Farkas making his way upstairs. He was out of his armor, wearing a simple tunic and trousers, with a pair of worn-out boots. It was the first time I saw him out of his armor. Then again, it wasn't as if I ever spoke to him or considered his company. Our interactions were limited to an order or two, and the occasional training session when I was lucky enough to have one. He wasn't one to talk much. Besides, I still wasn't sure what to make of him. He seemed fine enough that first day, but the talk amongst the others was that he was fine, if not a bit slow.

"Companion," I called out.

Farkas turned and gave me a nod.

"Hey, going to celebrate your first job?" he asked.

"I am," I answered.

"Alone?" he asked.

"I was going to go to The Bannered Mare with Ria, but she took some work from Aela."

"If you still wanna go, I'd come with you. I mean, uh, if you want me there."

The offer took me by surprise. What surprised me even more was hearing myself saying he could join. You know what they say: any company is better than no company. _Maybe this will be an interesting evening after all_ , I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks. This chapter needed some major editing. Thank you all for reading!  
> Also, if you've enjoyed my work, I highly recommend PoeticAnt44's The Renegade. We stan Vorstag here.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! My writing schedule has changed, so chapters should be out during the weekend from now on. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding. Without further ado, please enjoy drunk Anyaie.

Vilkas materialized just as we were going to step outside of Jorrvaskr. _This fucker is like a daedra. He pops up when you least want him to_ , I grumbled, fighting the scowl I wanted to give him _._ Vilkas furrowed his brow at the sight of Farkas and I. I bit back the sharp remark that formed on my tongue, knowing it would do no good to irritate him after our earlier exchange.

"Where are you going?" he asked, directing his question at me.

"We're celebrating her first job. Wanna join?" Farkas offered. I eyed him as if all that mammoth shit clogged his brain. There was no way he could think I wanted Vilkas' company.

Vilkas, for once, spoke for both of us. "I'd rather dine with that giant you fought."

"Huh. That's a shame because it's on me tonight."

Vilkas turned his keen eyes away from me and looked at Farkas, the prospect of free drinks catching his attention. Farkas flashed his twin a shit-eating grin and pulled out a sack full of Septims, jangling it in his face like a lure. The mischievous look on Farkas' face almost made me smirk too. Vilkas let out a sigh and waved him off.

"You're not getting me with that this time," Vilkas said, making me wonder how often this happened.

Farkas yawned. "Boring."

"What? I'm not boring! Take that…"

"Come on, Anyaie. We're off. Betcha can't wait to have that _free_ ale."

"By the Nine you're such a…"

"Bye!" Farkas said, waving, before he pulled me outside of Jorrvaskr.

"Asshole!" Vilkas shouted from inside.

Farkas grinned as he listened to his brother's protests. For a moment, I wondered if we would ever be close enough to warrant a bright smile from him. But he was only like that with his twin. I didn't have any siblings, so I wouldn't understand.

The walk to The Bannered Mare wasn't long, which was for the best. I was unsure how to start a conversation with him. The most I knew about Farkas was that he was Vilkas' twin, the strongest of the Companions, and he trained the whelps. _If Ria was here, this would be so much easier with her_ , I thought _._ It was kind of him to join me, but it was still going to be an awkward night.

The familiar smell of ale and the crackling fire greeted us as we walked into the tavern. Everyone listened as Mikael, the sleazy bard, sang "Ragnar the Red," a Nord favorite. I used to roll my eyes whenever a bard performed it, wondering how the Nords thought it was entertaining. Now it was nostalgic. It brought me back to a time when I considered the inn my second home. It was depressing to realize I was more attached to a tavern than Jorrvaskr.

Hulda recognized me and motioned me to sit at the bar, so I obliged, Farkas not trailing far behind.

"It's good to see you again, dear, and an honor to serve you, Companion," she said, Farkas smiling at her as he took a seat.

I gave her a slight smile. "It's good to see you too, Hulda. It's been too long since I've been here."

"It has. The Companions must keep you busy. What can I get you?"

"Some ale."

"Coming right up," Hulda said, pouring Farkas and I our drinks. After telling us to let her know if there was anything that she could do, she left. That meant Farkas and I were on our own. I waited for him to say something, anything. An awkward silence lingered and I scanned the room for Hulda. The innkeeper needed to come back, fast. How was I supposed to sustain a conversation with him?

If I had any hope that Farkas would talk first, he dashed them by staying silent. My hopes piqued again when the ale came around. Alcohol lowered people's inhibitions and loosened their lips. Farkas took one sip, then another sip, and another sip. I eyed him, still waiting for him to say something. If any of this troubled him, it didn't show, but it left me irritated. What was the point of coming with me if he wasn't going to provide company? I might as well have just come to the tavern with Vilkas. At least he would use the quality time to reprimand me on being a terrible addition to the Companions. _Gods Ria, that job in Dawnstar better be worth it_ , I cursed.

_Why don't you talk to him?_ a small voice at the back of my mind suggested. Me? Make conversation with him? I watched him as he quietly sipped his ale. What did I have to discuss with the brute of the Companions? His mischievous smile came back to mind. Farkas wasn't as dense as I assumed. I wanted to make the effort. I mean, I bedded men in half the time I was around him, so how hard could it be?

"Did I understand that you fought a giant?" I asked.

Farkas' entire face lit up. "Oh yeah. Big thing. Huge club. It hurt a bit, but it wasn't too bad. Nicked my armor, but nothing Eorlund can't fix."

I blinked, unsure whether I thought Farkas was the strangest or the humblest man alive. Battles with giants was no mean feat and defeating one was often a tremendous victory. Most would brag about their achievement. The Nine know I've seen men vaunt for less. There he was making it sound like it was a tavern brawl.

"Giants aren't aggressive," I observed.

His face fell. "Nah, they're not. They're a peaceful bunch—usually. Guess some locals crossed their turf or something."

He brought the ale back to his lips, and I cursed myself for being a godsdamned idiot.

That isn't what men liked. They needed their egos stroked. How was it I could

get a man between my legs in moments if I wanted to, but I couldn't carry a friendly conversation with a potential shield-sibling?

"Why don't you tell me more about it?" I asked.

He turned to me, scratching the back of his head. "You sure? I'm not much of a talker. I might mess it up."

"Try me."

Farkas delved into his encounter with the giant. True to his word, he wasn't a skilled storyteller. He filled his recounting with "ums" or "wait, no, that was later" and some hand gestures that contributed nothing to understanding what happened. If he were a bard, I would have needed three times the amount of ale to get through a painful story, along with a sternly worded letter to the Bards College for allowing him to graduate. I could have stopped him at any point and walked away, but I didn't want to, not when I saw the traces of that same brightness from earlier.

"Alright, I've talked enough. Why don't you tell me about that sabre cat in Riverwood?" he said.

"There isn't much to say," I answered, fiddling with the empty tankard. "I killed a wild animal."

"You know… that's your problem."

I shot my head up. _My problem?_

"Oh? What's my problem, Companion?" I asked, irritated. _Great. Someone else who thinks they know my issues._

I could see the wheels in Farkas' head turn as he tried to pick his next words. "You're uh… kind of private."

"And? What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, pushing the ale aside. He was making me regret his company. The discomfort on his face showed me he was regretting it too. _Kind of private_ , I repeated. Did he want to go down this path with me after the lashing I got from his brother? Maybe it would do me good to yell at someone for a change.

"Come on, Farkas," I goaded. "Finish what you've started. Tell me about what a distant bitch I am and how the Companions predicate themselves on brotherhood, and that I should attempt to be closer to my potential shield-siblings. Go on. I dare you."

Instead of humoring me, he took a different approach. "You're _kinda_ drunk and it wouldn't be a bad idea to get food to calm your…"

"I am _not_ drunk!" I snapped while Hulda replenished my glass. This wasn't drunk. He was lucky I wasn't drunk or else I'd send him to Oblivion the way I wanted to with Vilkas. He grabbed the tankard away from me and downed it himself.

"Hey! That's not fair!"

"Neither is how you're acting," he said, wiping the excess ale with his sleeve.

"It's been a shit couple of days. Njada's been a bitch, your brother is a godsdamned prick, and I ended things with the only man I ever loved. So I'm sorry if the last thing I want to talk about is the stupid sabre cat."

There. I said everything that was eating at me. I wouldn't be so willing to share information, but I had enough of people making accusations about me. He wanted to know what I felt? He would get it. If I hurt him, so be it. He shouldn't have made such a trite comment. Not that it bothered me. All the other Companions disliked me, so why should he be any different?

_Why did I bother joining at all?_ I wondered. _I should just go back to adventuring. All this companionship bullshit is too much._ That settled it; I wouldn't return to Jorrvaskr. There was always work in Skyrim and I could do it alone, like I did before.

I spotted Uthgerd the Unbroken huddled away at a corner of the room. She was deep in thought and drink, oblivious to my argument with Farkas. The Companions rejected her once, and she remained bitter for it. Uthgerd didn't realize how lucky she was. _She still owes me that favor for the brawl I gave her. Maybe a good fight is what I need._

"That's the most I've ever heard you talk about yourself," he said the moment I decided to see Uthgerd.

Something about the way he said it made me turn back to him. His blue eyes bore into mine with an intensity I would have attributed to Vilkas. It wasn't the searing gaze of his brother's wrath. He was trying to understand me.

"You don't know me. Why would you care?" I sneered, but he unsettled me.

"Because that's what being shield-siblings is," he replied, undaunted by my tone.

He refused to look away as the truth of his words settled over me. He was right—I was cold the moment I walked into Jorrvaskr. It was bad enough everyone knew I was a Thane. I wanted them to see me for who I was, not my title, but I couldn't do that either. I became a doormat, letting them walk over me, hoping they would accept me. That was almost excusable. I was the new one, seeking to find her place. At the end of the day, I put no effort into knowing the people who would become my shield-siblings. I held back during those nights in the mead hall, preferring to keep to myself or talk with Ria. For once, I was speechless.

Words failed me, but they didn't seem to fail him. _Oh sure, now he talks_. "We shouldn't have to find out from Vilkas that you're Dragonborn, or you're a Thane, or that you went on your first job when you tell us yourself."

"You're… you're right," I admitted, taking a seat next to him in defeat. I needed to make this up to him.

"I'm sorry. It's not you… it's me…" I cringed. And he was supposed to be the one who was bad with words. Gods, I sounded like a teenager going through their first heartbreak.

He softened his gaze and pushed his tankard my way. "You sound like you need this, but eat something. Tilma said all you had was a sweet roll."

I nodded, letting him order something for both of us. Then our silence resumed.

It was my fault yet again. I took a sip of ale, thinking about Hadvar's accusations for the thousandth time in one day. Hadvar was right—I was a godsdamned coward. Another sip. Helgen changed me for the worse. I was so scared of things falling out of my control and losing everything. A longer sip. I made a promise to the Divines, so it couldn't be all that bad, could it? What if it wasn't just about Helgen? I finished the ale in the tankard. Farkas' concerned eyes fell upon me once more. Divines, it wasn't all about Helgen, was it?

"I didn't say that to make you feel bad," he said, cutting into my thoughts.

"What I feel doesn't matter. It needed to be said," I sighed, brushing away the memories of Helgen.

"Not to be mean, but you're kinda missing the point. What you feel does matter. How else are we supposed to trust you if you don't tell us anything?"

I turned to him, gave him an incredulous grin, and asked, "Do you really want to know me?"

"I do," he answered.

Before I could form a coherent answer, Saadia brought our food, and I was aware of the burning at the pit of my stomach. The scent of the grilled vegetables and the seared venison greeted me. I dug into the leeks and the potatoes and forgot everything I wanted to say. Getting drunk meant eating first and chatting about feelings later—or never. Farkas cut into the meat and took a bite. I hoped that would keep him preoccupied. Of course not. Mr. Silent and Strong now couldn't shut up.

"My brother and I have been at Jorrvaskr since we were little whelps. Our father raised us there. Even Vignar couldn't remember Companions younger than us," he said.

That surprised me. I always assumed those who joined the Companions did so in their adulthood. Raising children at Jorrvaskr seemed counterintuitive. With all the weapons and armor, it didn't seem like a suitable place for kids. Oblivion, my girls were good, and I still worried that one of them would get hurt if I left my axe lying around. More than that, I believed in letting children be children. The talk of fighting and combat was something they could learn all about when they were older.

I settled on answering, "Really?"

Farkas took another bite of his venison and replied with his mouth full. "Ish no big deal." He swallowed and then tried again. "I mean, it's no big deal. I don't remember what it's like being new to Jorrvaskr, but I guess it's hard."

"It is. I haven't been easy to get along with, but the others… I don't think they like me."

"It's not all personal. Lots of faces pass through Jorrvaskr. We all know

what it's like to get attached to a potential Companion too soon," he assured me, trying to keep his tone even, but perhaps he got too close with some of them.

It never occurred to me that it would be hard for the Companions to lose possible members. Farkas told me it was rough when I joined, but it was the first time I contemplated it. They struck me as battle-hardened warriors who understood the risks of their lifestyle. As I looked at Farkas, I questioned it. Perhaps knowing didn't make it the reality any less painful. I had more sympathy for my potential shield-siblings—most of them, anyhow.

"And Njada? Is she trying to run me out before she gets too close?" I asked.

"Ignore her. She likes testing people's limits. My brother let you have an earful for what happened in the yard, but don't listen to him. You gotta be able to stand up for yourself too," he said.

"I didn't mean to use my Thu'um on her. I don't always have control over it."

"Huh. Well. At least it helped this time."

His nonchalant answer didn't ease my guilt, but he was right—sort of. The Thu'um would get her off my case with her stupid errands. I wouldn't have wanted it to happen that way, but it was better than nothing.

Emboldened, I asked, "What's your brother's excuse?"

"Ah, he's just an asshole," Farkas said, that same mischievous grin from earlier gracing his face again. I caught myself thinking he had a great smile, the sort that rubs off on you. He was laconic in most of his interactions with the Companions. It was refreshing to see him at ease.

"That ain't fair to him. He's got a lot on his mind these days, so he's grumpier than usual," Farkas conceded. His smile dimmed, and I thought I saw a touch of concern there. I didn't bother asking for more details. He wouldn't share. Neither did I care enough about Vilkas' problems when I had my own.

"It doesn't excuse how he treats me," I said. _That was a stupid thing to say_. Much to my surprise, he wasn't angry. Instead, he shook his head in agreement and asked Hulda for another round of ale.

"You're right. He closes himself off and he can be kind of hard to reach. Hey, you do that too. That's why you two don't get along."

I glared at him. Of all the things I wanted to hear, the last one was that there was _any_ resemblance between that dick and I. The good news was I didn't need to tell Farkas. He stuck his hands up in surrender and corrected himself. "Sorry but uh, what I meant to say was that it's hard to earn his trust."

"He hasn't made himself endearing to me either. He had no right seeking out information about me. Can you guess why I said nothing about being Dragonborn?"

"Uh, well…"

I answered my own question. "Until a couple of months ago, I didn't know I was Dragonborn. It's not all there is to me. I came to the Companions because I wanted to do good as me, not the Dragonborn."

He cocked his head a little, processing what I was telling him. The odd part was that I wanted to tell him. The word needed to come out, itching for release as if they were a Thu'um. _It has to be the ale. I'm never this comfortable talking to anyone_. Before I realized it was happening, I admitted what led me to join the Companions. "Actions speak louder than titles or birthright. I just… I just hoped I could find some place to do that."

It was like I was naked in front of a man for the first time again, vulnerable, anxious to see his response. I wanted to shrink back into myself and pretend I never said anything. Farkas didn't need to hear it. I was sure he already thought I was weird enough without me gushing about my feelings. _This damned ale. I shouldn't be drinking. It's not good for me._ Ignoring my own advice,I took another huge gulp. It would be better if I forgot whatever I said.

"Titles don't matter." He must have known this wasn't comfortable and wanted to lighten the mood, so he chanced bumping my shoulder. It took me by surprise, but so did the next words that followed. "I wouldn't even care if you had some fancy title like Jarl of Cheese Valley."

I snorted and bumped his shoulder back. "Cheese Valley isn't a hold."

"It should be. Cheese is good."

For the first time that day, I laughed and Farkas rewarded me with that bright smile he wore earlier.

"Now enough about the depressing stuff. You're telling me about the sabre cat _and_ we're getting wasted." Farkas raised the tankard. "To your first job."

"To my first job," I said, and clinked mugs with him before chugging down the rest of the ale.

Soon after, Mikael sang an old ballad about the daedric princes and the foolish man who sought their artifacts. I caught the beginning of the song about Hircine, which was the verse that most people were familiar with. No matter how much I thought the bard was a prime piece of horker shit, I couldn't help but sing the words underneath my breath.

" _If you kill this man-beast_

_At the full moon_

_I promise, o hero,_

_My greatest boon."_

_Thus said the stag_

_The Prince of the Hunt_

_And so this man-beast_

_The hero would confront_

My singing warranted a strange look from Farkas. I turned red, figuring it was my horrific voice. _Did I sing that loud?_ Everyone cheered in the tavern when Mikael sang about the hero slaying the shifter. Regardless of my opinion on the despicable bard, his baritone voice conveyed the thrill of the hero's adventure. Farkas remained quiet, choosing instead to focus on drinking. He clenched his jaw as if he was struggling with something, his shoulders tensing with the applause. Something dark lurked beneath his stoic gaze. It was odd, but I didn't think much of it.

It was my turn to brighten his mood, so I leaned in and said, "I only remember the Hircine verse because I'm piss drunk for the other sixteen."

Farkas guffawed, and I was proud of myself for getting that out of him.

The tension from that day melted as Farkas and I continued to drink. Between his good-natured quips and his stories about his youth, Farkas drew more laughter out of me than I had done in months. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I didn't remember when that last happened, but I liked it. We could become good friends in time. At the very least, he would be a great drinking buddy.

When it came time for the tab, he paid for the amount in full. I was in the middle of telling some stupid story—I can't remember what—and I stopped.

"Waaait. You don't have to do that," I protested.

"Wasn't kidding about the free ale," he said, flashing me the same playful grin he gave Vilkas.

"But my first job! I should pay!" I exclaimed, beckoning Hulda and pulling out my bag of Septims. Farkas pushed the coins back to me. My skin tingled at the warmth of his hand during the brief moment it was on mine. _Wait, what did I just feel?_

"Keep it," he hiccupped, not giving me time to linger on it. "You earned it."

"But Farkas!" I objected, slamming my fist on the bar, then yelping because I hit it too hard.

"Ooh. I'm scared. Bet ya can't even walk straight."

He was right, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. _Pull yourself up, Sylanitte._ I pushed the barstool back and got off the chair with no problem. _That's a good start. One step at a time._ The world spun as I took a step forward, making me lose my balance and crash into Farkas' chest. I almost pushed him backwards, but he grabbed a hold of me and stayed put on the stool. It took me a second to process what happened, until I looked up at him, his silvery blue eyes amused. The heat rose to my cheeks.

He snorted and propped me back up. "Come on. You need some sleep."

We giggled like idiots as we swaggered towards Jorrvaskr. I tripped up the steps going to the Wind District, causing Farkas to let out a roaring laugh that I'm sure the entire town heard. It got worse by the time we made it to Jorrvaskr, and I realized there was another set of steps to deal with.

"There's no way you're gonna make it up those steps," Farkas said.

"Yes I can! See? Look!" I insisted, only to have him stop me by clamping a hand on my shoulder.

"Fuck no. You're gonna break something and then you won't be able to train. I'm carrying you up."

"But I'm tall!"

"But you're thin. Should balance out okay."

Before I had a chance to protest again, he tossed me over his shoulder as if I were a ragdoll. Few men could carry me the way Farkas did. I told him off, made a show of it, but I didn't mind. He didn't take me seriously, having felt me laughing the entire time. It was like being a kid coming back home from sneaking to the tavern—sober enough to know that you could wake your parents up, but being drunk enough not to care.

Once we were down the stairs to the living quarters, he stubbed his toe along the doorframe. He let out a yelp of surprise, almost dropping me to the floor, but he regained his composure, which made me burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Shh! The others are sleeping!" he thought he whispered, but I was sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," I said, biting down on my lip.

"Promise?"

"I _promise_ ," I said, mocking him by lowering my voice to sound like his.

As he put me down, I had to hold on to him to steady myself. Unable to uphold my promise, he tried shushing me as a laugh escaped through my hand over my mouth.

"Bed. Now," he ordered, pointing me to the whelp quarters.

"Okay, Daddy. I'll be a good girl."

It was Farkas' turn to blush. I didn't mean anything serious by it. I was always looser when I was drunk. How else would I have made it through the first few times being with a man? _He'll forget about it in the morning._ I enjoyed getting under his skin a little; he was cute when he was flustered. As expected, it made my laughter louder, with some unflattering snorts.

"Hey! Stop that! You're gonna wake the others up!" he protested.

"It's okay! They don't like me, anyway!"

These words only exasperated Farkas. He picked me up again, shushed me—which still didn't work—and walked towards my room. I quieted as we crossed the threshold of the whelp quarters, no one stirring at our entrance. Despite being drunk, he was gentle as he placed me on my bed.

I looked up at him, smiling an extra stupid grin.

"Hey Farkas?" I said, staring into his silvery-blue eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I needed this tonight. Thanks."

He grinned here and covered me. "I'm glad too, but don't thank me yet. You gonna be real hungover tomorrow."

"Still doesn't hurt as much as Hadvar," I yawned. I thought I saw sadness or pity flash in his eyes, but fatigue overcame me, my lids growing heavy. I wanted to yawn out 'good night,' but I wasn't able to stay awake any longer. As I was losing consciousness, I could have sworn him say, "Hadvar's an idiot," but darkness overcame me before I could process it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	12. Missing the Mark

_Fredas, 16th day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

"You would give your own coin to help my son?" Mralki asked.

I watched as his son, Erik, spoke with Vilkas. I remembered the lad watching us after we defeated the dragon; his bright red hair made him hard to miss. That same night, he listened to Vilkas' and my stories, absorbing every detail. He was enthralled, hanging on to each word. I knew the boy was eager to become an adventurer with the way he was captivated by our stories. I expected him to approach us, which he did that morning. He was keen on becoming an adventurer. When he asked me to speak to his father about it, I was happy to oblige.

Mralki was reluctant. After the Great War, he settled in Rorikstead with his wife, who died when Erik was young. One look at Mralki told me how much he suffered. The thought of sending his only son into the world worried him. I didn't blame him, but I knew what he did—he couldn't keep Erik home working the farm forever.

"I would. This should do it," I answered, handing him enough Septims to cover the cost of Erik's armor.

"I'm moved by your compassion. Your kind deed will not go unrewarded, my friend," Mralki assured me, gripping my hands in gratitude.

I gave him a small smile. "I don't need a reward. Make sure you arm the boy with sturdy gear before he ventures off on his own. If you'll excuse me, friend, my shield-brother and I should be off if we want to make it to Whiterun before sundown."

"Safe travels and may the divines bless you now and always, Harbinger."

"And you as well," I said.

I returned to my table, to find Erik still talking Vilkas' ear off. _This is not the shy thing that approached us earlier_ , I thought. Meanwhile, Vilkas looked down at his mug of water, as if wishing it was mead. I fought back my smirk, deciding to spare my shield-brother further torture.

"I heard of Dwemer defenses, but to—oh! Hello Harbinger!" Erik greeted, offering me a broad grin. "Your shield-brother was telling me about the close call with a centurion."

"And I was telling him if you weren't there with me, I would be dead," Vilkas added, being his typical dour self. He was always crankier when he was hungover.

"Vilkas is right. An adventurer's life is not an easy one. It's filled with peril at each turn. If you decide the risk is worth it, I've provided your father with enough coin to fit you with some decent armor," I told the boy.

Erik's face lit up, jumping out of his seat and brought me into a hug. I became as stiff as a board and patted his back, not used to hugs. The boy meant well, but Divines damn it, why were Nords so affectionate? Vilkas snickered as I made a crude gesture with my free hand, which didn't quell his laughter.

"Thank you so much! I don't know how you did it, but I promise I won't disappoint you and… oh, I'll get off of you," the boy said, blushing.

"Yes. That's a good idea," I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.

Erik pulled away from me, still beaming at me as though I were Talos incarnate.

"Thank you. What can I do to repay you? Name it. I'll give you anything… except my firstborn."

I snorted. "Best you don't offer me children. As I told your father, you don't have to repay me. Jorrvaskr's doors are open if you want to join us. Until then, good luck. I look forward to our paths crossing again. Come on, Vilkas. Let's say goodbye to Jouane and Rorik so we can leave."

Everything was in order when we saw the older men. We received the expected treatment—thank you for helping us, we wish you luck with the dragons, and so on. What I didn't expect was Jouane handing me a bulky package that weighed as much as a small child.

"Dragon bone?" I asked, putting the package onto my horse.

Jouane nodded and answered, "Along with the scales. I thought it was wise to give these to you in case you wanted to use them."

The gesture was thoughtful, but I had no clue what to do with the bone or scales. The possibility of crafting armor with it remained, but how? If I struggled to create a basic ebony dagger, there was no way I could work with something as complex as dragon bone. With how scarce the materials were, I didn't have the margin of error like I did with steel or iron.

"Thank you for your generosity. Both of you," I said.

"There's no need to thank us, friend. If you're in need of healing, I'm at your service. And as for you," Jouane said, slapping Vilkas on the back, "treat her well."

"Of course I will. She's my Harbinger," Vilkas said.

Jouane gave him his all-knowing stare, one that unsettled me. I was Vilkas' Harbinger the same way he was my shield-brother. We pledged to fight alongside each other, for better and for worse. It was nothing out of the usual. What did the old Breton mean by that? I shook off the thought. I liked Jouane, but life must be boring in Rorikstead if we were a source of entertainment.

We rode towards Whiterun, our journey quiet. It worked for us. Vilkas was irritable after a night of socializing and needed his space. Meanwhile, I woke up that morning with the same coiling dread in my chest from the day before. There was something else that I let slip through the cracks. It urged me, heeding me to listen.

I shoved it deep down, telling myself I would deal with it later, knowing I wouldn't. Instead, I thought about how to deal with the dragons returning. _I have to see the Greybeards, don't I?_ I grumbled. The idea soured my mood. We hadn't parted on the best terms. They were helpful, to an extent. If it hadn't been for their help, I would have never learned how to use my Thu'um, but it frightened me. I told them I wanted nothing to do with this Dragonborn business and took my leave.

The attack at Rorikstead raised an important question—did I make the right decision all those months ago? For the longest time, I convinced myself I had. The dragons vanished, so I stopped worrying. It seemed simple until it wasn't. My mind spun at the myriad of questions. How had they vanished again? Why were they back?

Vilkas' voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Why did you pay for the boy's armor?"

"Mralki didn't have enough to cover the expense," I answered him.

"Yes, but why bother at all? The boy's adventurous spirit is none of your concern. He might get himself killed in a matter of days."

Vilkas wasn't wrong. We both knew the tales of foolhardy men and women who adventured and vanished. Erik might become one of those cautionary tales. I honored my instincts and gave the boy the opportunity to prove himself; however, my decision wasn't based on instinct alone.

"I try not to forget that I got to where I am because people I had faith in me. When I can, I do the same for others."

The same person passed through both of our thoughts—Kodlak. The old man believed in others when no one else did. I hoped Vilkas wasn't comparing us. No matter how honorable I tried being, I could never be Kodlak Whitemane.

"He would be proud of you," Vilkas said.

I shook my head, the guilt stirring in my chest. "I've made mistakes that Kodlak hasn't."

He rode closer to me, slowing his horse's pace. "We discussed this yesterday. We'll work on the matter of dragons together."

"I know."

I flashed him a pathetic smile, said little else, riding ahead. Vilkas' offer meant more than he understood. He wasn't able to help me with my lingering unease, along with things I hadn't thought of in months. The dragons were only a part of the problem.

_Mondas, 8th day of Mid Year, 4E 202_

I made it back to Jorrvaskr before noon, ready to be rewarded for Clearspring Tarn. Most of the jobs that Aela gave me involved wolves or sabre cats. Imagine my surprise when I encountered a troll instead. The creature almost took me out with its massive claws. I grinned while thinking about it. It was my most challenging job so far. It felt good to accomplish something that wasn't running a wolf out of a citizen's home or roughing up the local loudmouth.

The jobs alone weren't the best part, but the training was invaluable. Though I trained with Farkas, Aela took an interest in my archery skills, or lack thereof. I didn't mind the way my muscles ached at night, or that I struggled to keep my eyes open in the evening. It was so silly to take such joy in exhaustion.

A few Companions waved at me as I entered the yard, and I waved back. Things had improved since my encounter with Njada. The Circle and Ria were the only ones who seemed to know about me being Dragonborn, and they didn't ask questions. If the other Companions knew, they never mentioned it. I preferred it that way. We didn't need to have that conversation yet.

My relationship with most of the Companions improved, anyway—Vilkas ignored me, for the most part, and Njada flashed me surly looks each time I saw her. That wasn't out of the norm. Vilkas still treated me like I was the dirt beneath his boots, but he left me alone. Njada avoided me as much as possible. But I sensed her gaze on me when I wasn't looking, pondering how to get her revenge.

I paid neither of them any mind. I was just eager to train. Farkas handed my ass to me on a silver platter when we sparred with maces a few days earlier. I planned on returning the favour in kind, even though moving him was like trying to push a boulder. That was my goal—but first, payment for the troll.

An arrow flew from Aela's bow, hitting the bullseye. The woman never failed to impress me.

"Nice shot," I said.

She lowered her bow and turned to me, grinning. "My pa drilled it into me. You'll get better in time."

"Don't count on that. I have the aim of a horker."

We shared a laugh, recalling the incident from three weeks prior. Poor Athis. He took an arrow to the knee. I worried that his days as a Companion were over. Lucky for him, it wasn't serious. It didn't go deep enough into his kneecap to cause lasting damage. After healing him, apologizing profusely, and a drink at The Bannered Mare, the Dunmer and I were on good terms, but he made me swear not to practice my archery around him ever again.

"Practice makes perfect. You've got a bow on you," she observed, pointing to the quiver on my back.

"I found it in the troll's den. It looks enchanted too, but I can't tell what it does. Did you want it?" I asked.

"Keep it. You need to become familiar with archery. Take some of my arrows and let's give it a go."

"Can I get my payment for the job first?" I asked, hoping that it distracted her.

"Training first, then we'll discuss payment."

I sighed and pulled the bow out, a faint silver glow surrounding it before it faded. The bow was in pristine condition. Sparks coursed through me when I gripped it. Whatever enchantment it had, it was unlike anything I experienced before. I wondered how such a fine weapon wound up in a troll's cave.

Aela handed me an arrow. I nocked it and got into position, eying the middle of the target. I had to remind myself to keep my grip loose. From the corner of my eye, I saw Aela nod in approval. Taking a breath, I let the arrow fly loose, watching as it soared towards the target. It landed on the rung near the bullseye, no small feat given how bad I was three weeks prior.

I turned to Aela, who rewarded me with a nod of approval.

"Not bad," Aela said, handing me another arrow. "Do it again."

This continued for a while. Most of my shots stayed along the two rungs closest to the bullseye, with a few straying on the outer edges. My last shot landed near the centre of the target, but not quite touching it. My brows shot up. I almost had it. If I kept this up, I'd be able to hit it in no time. _When did I become so excited over nothing?_ I wondered.

I took the arrows out of the target and handed them back to Aela, whose green eyes beamed with pride. "Not bad. You're almost there. Keep this up and you'll have a decent shot soon."

I didn't need her approval, but I glowed at her praise.

"And here's the promised reward for the job. Say, I have something else you can do. Consider it moving target practice." Aela tossed me a bag of Septims.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, a little more curious than I cared to admit.

"We've got some traders coming who are short on wolf pelts. See if you can find some."

"I'll take care of it," I said.

"Excellent. Go get some rest. You did some good work today. Don't forget to see Farkas before you head back inside. He was asking about you."

I nodded, thanked her, and sought Farkas. He was underneath the shade, munching on an apple. My stomach growled. Farkas must have heard it, grinning, and tossed me a green apple from the bowl Tilma laid out that morning.

"Saw you practicing with Aela. You look less like a mudcrab with a bow," he said, flashing me a smirk.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you I never held a weapon before I came to Skyrim?"

"You mention it once every training session. Doesn't mean I'm gonna let up."

I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed before returning his focus to his apple. Farkas' ribbing wasn't so bad. After the incident with Athis, I deserved every bit of teasing for my lacklustre ability. At least I improved. When I came back from Aela's job with those wolf pelts, he'd have to eat his words. Farkas would find something else to poke fun at. I expected it, and maybe I wanted it. He had a way of making me laugh, even when it was at my own expense.

We ate our apples in silence, so I scanned the yard. I saw Vilkas training Ria with a battleaxe. I couldn't help but feel jealous—I didn't want to, but it was stronger than me. Two months passed since I joined the Companions. I used my battleaxe on jobs, but received little training. Farkas was skilled with two-handed weapons, yet wanted me to learn one-handed ones. Vilkas was the Companion most skilled with larger weapons, but the only time I trained with him was the first day. _He must do it on purpose_ , I thought.

A bemused laugh came out of me, and Farkas' brought his attention back to me. He gave me a questioning glance, and I swatted my hand, dismissing his concerns. Farkas shrugged and went back to eating his apple. What if he brought up my training with Vilkas? It was an option. Vilkas was his twin, but that seemed cowardly. I'd have to approach him myself. He'd chew my head off sooner than train me, but he couldn't ignore my existence forever either—not that I minded it. I'd rather be talking to a draugr, but they don't offer training.

"Why can't I train with Aela?" Ria asked Vilkas.

My ears perked up at her question. _Since when does she want to train with a bow?_ I pondered.

"Because you wanted to learn the longer blades. Aela's never used anything bigger than a dagger," Vilkas replied, not looking impressed by her query.

"It's just… I think our fighting styles are very similar."

"Well, you can either get better with a bow or try to learn from me."

"Okay, fine. Can you remind me again about how far I should hold this blade?"

"Let's go through this one more time, then you can take a break."

An idea clicked. If Vilkas didn't want to train me, Ria could give me tips. In exchange, I'd teach her the little I understood about archery. Training with Vilkas was preferable, but learning with Ria was a decent option.

The timing was perfect. Torvar stumbled into the yard, ambling to a training dummy. Farkas muttered something under his breath, excused himself, and left to deal with him. Vilkas dismissed Ria, and I waved the Imperial over.

"Hey. How did your job for Aela go?" she asked, taking a seat next to me.

"I'm alive, the troll is dead, _and_ I have a new weapon," I answered, handing her the bow. "Check it out.

Her eyes lit up as she examined the bow, admiring its craftsmanship. "What a find! That's—wait a second. How come your trolls hide fancy weapons and all mine hide are corpses?"

I blinked, innocent as I ever was. "That's simple. My trolls are richer than yours. This one was a Thane of the Rift."

"Oh, shut up," Ria snorted, giving me a playful shove as I broke into a laugh. "Thane my ass. The bow is beautiful, though. You better learn how to use it."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." I tilted my head at Vilkas, who was giving the training dummy a thrashing. "The local grump is the only one who can train me in two-handed weapons, but he doesn't like me."

"You don't have proof of that."

I glared at Ria and she changed her tune. "Okay, he doesn't like you, but that doesn't mean he won't train you."

"I'm going to broach the subject with him. If he doesn't go for it, are you willing to give me some tips? I'll teach you more about archery. You can use my bow if you want to."

"How can I say no to that? You're on, but talk to Vilkas. Whether he likes you or not, he has to come around at some point."

"Well, well, well, well. What did I just hear?"

My blood boiled as Njada made her appearance. It was the first time since the courtyard shook that she dared approaching me. She looked like a cat that stumbled into a bowl of cream. Ria rolled her eyes. We said nothing wrong. The problem was that we didn't need to misspeak for Njada to cause a scene.

"That depends. Are your ears clean, Companion?" I asked.

"What was it I was hearing about Vilkas not liking you?" she asked, her voice saccharine.

"Hey, that's none of your business! This was a private conversation between friends!" Ria snapped.

"Something you would have more of if you weren't eavesdropping," I added.

Njada winced. "Very funny."

"It is. And if I recall, you don't like me either. Were you two planning on starting an 'I hate Anyaie' group?' If so, I'm pleased to see you making friends."

"So should I tell Vilkas you threatened me with your Thu'um last night?" Njada said, raising her voice loud enough for him to hear.

My mouth tightened into a line and I glowered at her. So she figured out I was Dragonborn. _Maybe it was stupid to pretend she wouldn't after what happened the last time_. Worse, she wanted to use it against me. Ria sensed my seething rage, and laid a calming hand on my arm. I took a deep breath, urging myself to check my temper. If I didn't, I risked losing everything I worked for in the last two months.

"What is it you want from me?" I asked.

"Not much. I'm trying to understand why you're here instead of, you know, fighting dragons."

"There are no dragons right now."

Njada grinned. "Really? We got a report about a dragon two days ago. Burned down a small settlement in the Rift. Wait, weren't you on a job yesterday? And you didn't think of investigating it?"

I shot out of my seat, Ria following suit.

"Th-that's not true!" I stammered, all color draining from my face. But what if it was true? My internal alarm blared, ringing in my ears. What if Njada wasn't trying to provoke me _?_ If a dragon attacked the Rift and I wasn't present… the Nine shouldn't have spared me at Helgen.

"Oh, you're right. It's not true. But it was damn worth seeing you squirm."

A laugh peeled right through her when I didn't answer. It took Ria clutching on to my hand to stop me from punching her. Dragon attacks were no laughing matter. She wouldn't dare joke about it if she were at Helgen. These fucking Nords and their legends. Legends mask monstrous truths. They don't capture the wretched scent of burning flesh, or the screams of young ones at the sight of their parents engulfed in flames. Those red eyes. My throat burned.

"What's wrong? Dragon got your tongue? Gods. If this is how you react to a dragon threat, we're all screwed."

" _Fuck off_!" I shouted, and the world shook.

I saw genuine terror on Njada's face the last time it happened; this was different. Her amber-colored eyes shone with smug satisfaction, a smirk on her lips. I trembled with rage. She played me, and I let her win—but I wasn't about to let her have it so easily.

"You bitch. You fucking bitch," I hissed.

Ria couldn't stop my fist from connecting with Njada's nose, sending her tumbling backwards. I panted, looming over her as she gripped onto her bleeding nose. If the Companions didn't want me after this, so be it. But I wouldn't let some Nordic hussy insult me, no matter how right she was.

Ria restrained me before I got another swing in. "Anyaie, stop. Vilkas is coming. You're going to end up…"

"I don't give a fuck! If I'm getting kicked out, she's going to suffer for it!" I growled, straining against Ria's grip.

"You're dead," Njada snarled.

She stood up, wobblier than before, but ready to fight. The others came. I heard them, but the blood thrummed in my ears as I focused on Njada. _Fuck them knowing I'm Dragonborn. I'm going down on my own terms_. Just as I was about to break free from Ria's grasp and lunge again, Farkas grabbed Njada from behind. Vilkas trailed behind him and turned his contemptuous gaze my way.

"You. What's the meaning of this?" he barked.

"She used the Voice on me," Njada said.

"I didn't!" I protested.

"Njada provoked her and…" Ria started, but Vilkas wasn't having it.

"Unhand her," Vilkas ordered, and Ria did as she was told. "Come, new blood. Kodlak will decide if it's worth keeping you or not."

"Do it," Ria whispered.

I nodded and followed Vilkas into the hall. Ria was wise, thinking I had a better shot convincing Kodlak that this was a misunderstanding. I had to be an idiot and jeopardize it by asking Vilkas. "I guess it's not worth telling you I'm innocent before I go see Kodlak?"

Vilkas stopped cold in his tracks and turned to face me. I expected his usual disbelief, and I was right. "You think that's a good idea when you've caused nothing but trouble since you've gotten here?"

"I'm sorry, but trouble?" I repeated, crossing my arms. "Save what's happened with Njada, I've done nothing. I've kept my head down and done the work. If anyone's caused trouble, it's you and your dour attitude."

He let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, I'm the problem, am I? You threatened a Companion with your shout twice."

This again? I scowled at him for a change, battling the urge to shake his shoulders and tell him I didn't shout at his shield-sister. What was his infatuation with my Thu'um? Why did he care so damn much whether or not I was the Dragonborn?

Instead, I answered, "I will say it for the last time, Companion. What happened with Njada both times was not my Thu'um."

"You're as good of a liar as you are a Companion. Don't bother with Kodlak and leave. Your insolence today shows that you have nothing to offer us, as a Companion or Dragonborn."

" _Fus_!"

The shout spilled out of me quicker than fire on oil, pushing a wide-eyed Vilkas down the steps and into the banquet table. He grunted at the impact, the plates clattering around him as the food soiled his armor. I should have been remorseful. It was wrong to abuse my Thu'um. But I got wicked pleasure from seeing his stunned face as I approached him.

" _That_ is a Thu'um. Don't ever forget it," I said.

The others came into the hall. I imagined what the Thu'um must have sounded like to them. Maybe the fact that I blew my chance at becoming a Companion should have bothered me, but I didn't care, not when Vilkas tested my patience. I was tired of being pushed around by him.

Vilkas pulled himself up, trying to make it look effortless. _And that wasn't even the full effect of my Thu'um_ , I thought, eying him as he struggled. If he hadn't been such a perpetual piss-off, I might have helped him get up. Oblivion, I might have apologized. Instead, I watched in satisfaction as he grunted.

"You're… you're a damned bitch," he growled.

"And? What are you going to do about it, you miserable bastard?"

Vilkas drew his sword, his eyes glinting like the steel of his blade. I grabbed my battleaxe and lunged at him, but he parried my strike. _Talented bastard_ , I cursed. We went on like this, almost matching each other strike for strike until Vilkas, with one sweeping motion, brought his sword down on my axe with all his might. It loosened my grip, the axe about to fall from my hands. I growled and kicked him off of me, granting me a chance to firm my grip.

He didn't rush back into combat. Instead, he circled me, waiting to see if I moved. The sweat dripped down my forehead. Few opponents I faced posed a challenge like Vilkas did. I had no hopes of emerging victorious. All I wanted was to shake him a bit to get my point across.

"Given up?" he asked.

"Not a chance," I answered.

That was the assent he needed to spring forward, slashing his blade. I avoided the impact, thrusting my axe towards his side and—nothing. Vilkas was too quick, and his blows soon came as an onslaught. It was a miracle I dodged them until one made me stagger backwards. My reflexes kicked in and I regained my balance, giving him the opportunity to strike me again. I deflected that blow with my hilt. Vilkas pushed down on it, trying to make me lose my grip a second time. I hissed, clinging onto the blade with all my resolve. We were in a deadlock.

"Surrender," he demanded, his voice strained.

"Call it a draw," I hissed.

"No!" he growled, forcing his sword against my battleaxe, wanting me to lose my balance. "Don't make this harder. Surrender and I won't hurt you."

"You are the one making this hard, Vilkas!" I snapped, pushing his sword back. "You've got a shit personality, but you won't hurt me."

"You don't know me!" he grunted, pushing against the battleaxe.

I held my ground, refusing to let him move me, but my arms were weary. _How much longer can I withstand this?_ I pondered, feeling everything ache.

"And you don't know me! Let this go," I breathed out.

"Enough of this madness!" a voice boomed.

Reality nestled its way back into our combat-addled minds. We ruined Tilma's immaculate table, the crumpled tablecloth stained with smashed food. Broken plates and utensils littered the ground, along with a spilled pitcher of ale. The other Companions stared, unsure if they should have been cheering a good fight or pretending they didn't allow us to wreck the hall. Vilkas and I stood at the center like petty children caught fighting over nothing.

The worst part was the disappointment etched onto Kodlak's face. My blood turned cold as his reproachful eyes fell on me. I braced myself for the fallout, accepting that I would wallow at a tavern in a matter of minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	13. Reparations

Tilma handed Vilkas and me everything we needed—a bucket of water, a mop, some cloth, and a scrubber. _Moping in a tavern would be better_ , I complained, watching Vilkas' grimace as she handed him his supplies.

"This place better be spotless when I get back, you hear?" Tilma said. We both nodded and set to work, not wanting to upset the older woman further.

The old woman left us to it, the disappointment on her face clear as the mess we made. She wasn't the only one who was disappointed. I wiped off the sticky remnants of food off the floor, remembering the Harbinger's reaction to my fight with Vilkas. Kodlak hadn't yelled or made a scene. He sighed, ordered us to clean it up so Tilma didn't have to, then told us to come see him when we finished. My gut tightened. Kodlak's calmness made it worse. _He expected better from me, didn't he?_ That explained why the memory of his dismayed grey eyes hurt.

Vilkas and I spent our time cleaning in deafening silence. I watched as he mopped the remnants of food, wearing his perpetual scowl. If I weren't in the same position as he was, I would laugh at the sight of a mighty Companion with a mop. For all of my talk of being no one's errand girl, I demoted myself to a maid. It wasn't the first time since I started cleaning, I questioned if using my Thu'um was worth it.

For a moment, I felt the slightest shred of guilt. Maybe it was because I shouldn't have abused my Thu'um the way I did, or because I understood that no matter how shitty Vilkas was, I had to get along with him too.

"Do you want me to take over mopping so you can reset the table?" I asked him.

"No," he answered, focusing on his mopping.

"It'll go quicker that way."

"I don't need your help."

And with that, my short-lived regret vanished. I should have used the full extent of "Unrelenting Force" on him to send him flying across the mead hall when I had the chance. The image was enough to soothe over my annoyance.

 _But how long can we keep this up for?_ If I became part of the Companions, what happened then? Tiptoeing around Vilkas wasn't the answer; neither was using my Thu'um whenever he annoyed me, as tempting as it was. There was no way we could fight as shield-siblings if we were at each other's throats, our tempers threatening to explode without warning.

Once the hall was spotless, we made our way to Kodlak, who held a book in his hands. Before he set it down, I read the name off of the spine— _Uncommon Curses: Myth and Medicine_. Rumors floated around Jorrvaskr that the old man was unwell, but no one spoke about it. The book confirmed my experience, many people who were ill assumed they were cursed. Ill or not, I never took Kodlak for someone who was superstitious. Then again, I never thought it was my place to ask those questions. _I should have. At least I would have done something good before I left._

"You're done dealing with the mess?" Kodlak asked.

"Aye," Vilkas answered, and I nodded in agreement.

"Good. Let's discuss how brashly you've both acted. You boy. I'm ashamed of you," Kodlak said, and I saw Vilkas blanch.

"Master…"

"Don't 'Master' me. You might be a member of the Circle, but you've been as reckless as a recruit. Snooping around, prying into others' business is not behavior fitting a Companion, and neither is your attitude towards the newest recruit."

"Wait, how do you know about…"

"Don't think that because I'm in my quarters, I don't know what you're up to, son. I still have eyes and ears in this place, and it'll be that way until Arkay takes me."

"I'm sorry," Vilkas said, a slight tremble in his voice. He wasn't sorry about his behavior towards me. That was too much to ask. I was grateful that Kodlak was setting him straight, but he cared more about disappointing Kodlak than apologizing to me.

"I'm not the one you owe an apology to."

"But I won't accept an apology just to appease the Harbinger. I'd rather you said nothing if you don't mean it," I said.

If he had any regret over his actions, it didn't show. When he turned his gaze upon me, he was as proud and arrogant as he ever was. It was the look that reminded me why I used my Thu'um.

"It's not like you're sorry about using your Thu'um on me," Vilkas said.

"And how do _you_ know that?"

"Are you sorry?" Kodlak asked. It wasn't an accusation or a mocking question, more like genuine curiosity.

"I'm not sure anymore," I said, throwing my hands up in defeat. "I'd love to tell you I'm guilty, Harbinger. It was a misuse of my Thu'um, but your shield-brother's behavior has been less than welcoming. He's distrusted me since the first day."

"You've been mistrustful too," Vilkas said.

I let out a harsh laugh and shook my head. "Are you this obsessed with the fact I neglected to mention I'm the Dragonborn? I didn't mention it because it's not important."

"But if it wasn't important, why did you hide it?" Kodlak asked.

Old words came back to me, as did a familiar face. Those blue eyes were my own, rimmed with dark circles, always bloodshot, the light extinguished from them. _This world will demand your attention. Its weight will break you, and you will have no choice but to comply. Do you understand, girl? We don't choose what we are._ My father spoke those words a decade ago, and they still haunted me.

For a moment, I felt like a girl standing in front of my father, trying to justify my feelings. I struggled to find my voice, reminding myself that this was different. This had to be different.

"I…" I started, but my voice came out too soft, so I cleared my throat. "Like I told Farkas, I want my actions to speak for themselves."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ignore the way my legs were shaking. My father wasn't a terrible man, yet he had a knack for saying the worst things. He called it honesty, and so did my mother. Something he told me as a girl shouldn't make the tears prickle behind my lids. It shouldn't make me come apart near two Companions.

"Anyhow," I breathed out, breaking the silence, "there are no dragons, so there is no need for the Dragonborn. I'm just me."

I tried to read Vilkas and Kodlak's expressions, but found no solace. I grimaced. So this was the end of my journey with the Companions. It stung, but my father was right—we didn't get to choose what we were. The Divines hadn't wanted me to take on this life. I could go back to being an adventurer, or a healer if the jobs were scarce.

Before I went, I admitted, "I've been reckless and dishonest. I didn't choose to be the Dragonborn, but I chose the Companions. I hoped that would mean something. If I'm no longer welcomed, I'll see myself out."

"I didn't ask you to go, my girl," Kodlak said, his voice firm but gentle. His grey eyes were kinder than I expected. "Now, you're free to go if you'd like, but that's not what you want."

"It isn't."

"Then listen to me. When Jarl Balgruuf told me of a woman who took down a dragon, it amazed me. When you came to Jorrvaskr, I expected you would continue to do great things. Instead, you allowed your future shield-siblings to order you around. You've seen to putting them in your place and I won't take that away from you. However, no matter how justified, I can't condone such actions. You understand that?"

"I do, Harbinger," I said, lowering my head. "Please forgive me."

"This isn't a question of forgiveness, girl. I expected better from you. I still expect it."

My head snapped up at these words. Did that mean I could stay at Jorrvaskr? Wait, worse. Why was I hoping for the outcome I wanted? _Speak your case_ , a voice at the back of my mind urged.

"If you allow me to stay, I will be better," I promised.

"You both need to be better," Kodlak stressed. "Understand that if you keep up such behavior, there is no future with the Companions."

"But…" Vilkas interjected, and Kodlak raised his hand.

"Even you. We are all equal. I won't force you two to get along, but you will learn how to respect one another. That means offering her training instead of delegating it to your brother, Vilkas. And you, Anyaie. I've heard you've done excellent work since you've arrived, but that isn't enough. Keep your temper in check and learn how to work with the others. Are we clear?"

"We are," I said.

"Aye."

"Good, you're both dismissed."

The old man didn't waste time picking up his book again. My gaze lingered on him for a moment. _What does he have that makes him spend so much time amongst books?_ A part of me wanted to ask if there was something I could do. I assumed the old man didn't want anyone prodding into his business, yet alone a disappointing whelp. I stopped myself from taking that step towards him, deciding to follow Vilkas up the stairs to the hall instead.

Soon enough, Kodlak's illness started mattering little—he was giving us another chance. He was giving _me_ another chance. The relief crashed over me. So I wouldn't have to pack my things and head back to Breezehome. I still had a chance at becoming a Companion. This time, I promised I wouldn't disappoint him. If he believed in me, I would make it so I merited that faith. _Wait, did I even thank him?_ I wondered.

Thoughts of Kodlak left me when we made it into the banquet hall. When we made it to the banquet hall, Tilma awaited both of us, her arms crossed. Vilkas frowned at her, showing a rare glimmer of remorse.

"I'm sorry for the mess," Vilkas said.

"You should be! We haven't had a mess this bad since Torvar stumbled into the hearth and almost set the place on fire. Oblivion, Njada and Athis have never left this much destruction! What were you two thinking?"

"We weren't," I answered.

"Well, it's about time you two start thinking, or putting your differences aside.

"Tilma, not now," Vilkas implored.

"Oh? Not now?" Tilma asked, putting her hands on her hips. "Then when? When you two are at each other's throats and one of you spills blood? I've been in this hall for many years, boy, and I've seen what happens when two shield-siblings don't get along."

"She isn't a shield-sibling, and there's no guarantee she'll ever become one."

"You damn well know she will! How many have given up at this point, or worse, gotten themselves killed? The sooner you admit that she's here to stay, the quicker you can get your head unstuck from up your prideful ass, boy!"

A smirk twitched at my lips. This was the wrong move. Tilma turned her anger at me, her dark eyes blazing with unrestrained rage.

"And you!" she snapped. "If you ever use your Thu'um and ruin my table again, _I_ will haul you out of Jorrvaskr myself! Do you understand?"

"I do. Sorry," I said.

"Good. If you'll excuse me, I'm setting off to make dinner _again_."

She stormed to the kitchen, leaving Vilkas and I to ourselves. Kodlak and Tilma's words echoed in my mind. It was easy getting wrapped up in the Harbinger's reproach, but he directed those words at both of us. Tilma did too. They both saw something in Vilkas I never got to see. Perhaps it was time I did.

All that didn't justify his actions, or change how much I disliked him. He still owed me an apology, but I knew better than to hold my breath. Grudges would get us nowhere, and bad blood always spilled like wine from a goblet. We needed to learn how to move forward and tolerate each other. He wouldn't make the first move; he was too prideful for that. It fell on me.

"They're right," I said.

He turned to me, not scowling as he so often did. He looked weary. "We're not going through this, new blood. I'm not training you and I'm asking you to stay out of my path."

"Oh, for _fuck_ 's sake. You don't have to train me if you don't want to, but tell me what I've done to you." Just as he opened his mouth in, I cut in. "Apart from my Thu'um."

"I don't trust you. Satisfied?"

"Fine, but why? Because I didn't say I was Thane of Whiterun, or Dragonborn? Those aren't good enough reasons, Vilkas."

"No," he admitted, as if realizing it himself.

His answer made me want to bang my head against the wall. How did he not understand why he didn't trust me? He frustrated me to no end. The conversation wasn't going anywhere, not if he didn't understand himself well enough to give me a straight answer. Vilkas needed a reality check, and I was all too happy to deliver it.

"I will be your shield-sister one day. When that day comes, I have to be confident you have my back, as I will have yours."

"How can you say that when you hate me?" he asked, but there wasn't his characteristic bitter edge to his question. That same confusion I saw earlier with Kodlak resurfaced. Was he wavering?

His reaction spurred me to continue. "Because it's the right thing to do, for the Harbinger and for the Companions."

I waited for him to say something. In the two months that I knew him, he never got quiet when I spoke to him. I wasn't sure to take it as a sign that he was thinking about what I was saying, or that he didn't want to hear it.

"I should return to the yard. Ria is probably wondering what's taking me so long. But before I go, I don't hate you. I dislike you, but I'm willing to make peace, if you are. When you're ready, come find me," I said.

He nodded, and I went outside. Ria and Farkas sat down on the chairs. Ria clasped her hands, waiting for something, and so did Farkas. _They must have been waiting for Vilkas and I to come out._ They sprang up when they saw me, and the barrage of questions started.

"Are you okay? Where's Vilkas?" Farkas asked, his eyes full of concern.

"What happened with Kodlak? Are you still staying?" Ria added.

"He's inside. I'm okay," I answered, trying to flash them a reassuring grin. They looked no more reassured than before. "We're not going anywhere. We had to clean the hall for Tilma. Kodlak spoke to us and told us to stop acting like idiots."

"Whew. Glad to hear you're sticking around," Ria said.

"We got worried when it took a while," Farkas admitted, and nodded towards the door. "I should go check in on him. I'll catch up with you later."

Farkas left, and Ria asked, "Are you comfortable with a hug?"

I extended my arms. "Yes, but don't make me regret it."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around me. I grinned for a change. Sometimes a hug wasn't bad. Ria needed it, and I did too. The nerves eased away. There was still a lot of work to do, but this was a small victory.

We pulled away from each other, still grinning. Though Ria was the newest recruit before I came, she saw her fair share of faces that passed through Jorrvaskr too. That she stayed so kind and warm was something I admired about her. She didn't hesitate to treat me as an equal, and I determined that one day, I would have the honor of calling her my shield-sister. And speaking of shield-sister…

"I should go apologize to Njada."

Ria's brows shot up. "For what? You put her in her place!"

"And I don't regret that, but I still have to make things right if I'm going to stay." Ria flashed me an incredulous look, to which I held a hand. "I promised the old man I'd make the effort. I've got to do that, even if that means swallowing my pride."

"Are you sure you don't want to use your shout on _one_ other person before you go take the moral high ground? You're… what's the fancy word for 'Dragonborn?'"

I laughed and gave her a playful shove. "The word you're looking for is dovahdone with your shit."

"So you don't want me to teach you a few tips and tricks after you're done being goody two-shoes?"

"Fine, I'm in, but don't you dare call me a goody two-shoes or else I'll shout you into tomorrow."

"You can't do that… can you?"

I grinned and walked away, finding Njada throwing daggers at the training dummy. She sliced the blade through the dummy's throat. The seams tore apart, the fluff poking out of the gash. The sight made me rethink my apology. If she can do that to a dummy, what will she do to me? Like the masochist I was, I called out to alert her to my presence. She glared at me with her broken nose, which was a painful shade of purple.

"What do you want? Another swing?" she snarled, never letting go of the dagger.

"I come in peace," I answered.

"Peace or pieces?"

"Peace," I answered, allowing a golden light to flicker in my palms. "This is a peace offering. I suppose you never heard, but I am a decent healer. I can restore you in no time."

"And _why_ would you do that after punching me?"

"Although you're a complete bitch, it was wrong to punch you—mostly. If it would please you, Companion, I would like the chance to start over."

She glared at me for a moment, unsure of whether this was a trick. I wanted to remind her I wasn't a conniving bitch like she was, but decided against it.

"The old man got to you, huh?" she asked.

I nodded.

"He's got a knack for that. Go for it, I guess," she said, sheathing her dagger.

I approached her as the magicka built in my palm.

"Ah yes. Look at that nasty bruise. I must say, I haven't punched anyone that hard since Mikael at the Bannered Mare."

"Are you going to stare at your handiwork all day or heal me?" she demanded.

"Right. I'm warning you, this is going to hurt."

"Just do it."

Once my hand was warm, I pressed one of my fingers against her nose. I pushed at the bone, hearing it make a crunch as it snapped back into place. Njada flinched, but said nothing. With the bone set back into place, the restoration magic did the rest of its work, the bruise vanishing in mere seconds.

"Your little scheme to get me kicked out almost worked," I told her, still keeping my magicka steady. "From this point forward, I won't tolerate being treated like shit."

"You did act like a glorified errand girl for the first couple of weeks."

"A mistake I'll never repeat. You might enjoy your little power trips, but I'm never going to be on the receiving end of them ever again," I said, and dropped my palm. Her nose was as good as new.

Njada brought a hand to her nose, tapping it. "Huh. No pain. You're not bad at this healing stuff. I mean, I'm still trying to figure out why Skjor let you in in the first place, but this… urgh. This is kind of impressive. Fuck you."

"You're welcome, I think. No more brawls for a while. I don't like my healing work getting ruined."

"Fine. Now shoo. I'll go to the old man before he guilts me into it later."

I rolled my eyes and sought Ria before I jeopardized our peace. _Kind of impressive. Fuck you. Who says those two sentences within the same breath?_ I grumbled. I didn't have to heal her—the old man encouraged me to work with the others, not become Mara herself. This was as close as Njada and I would get to friendliness. If it meant peace, I'd take it.

Ria waited for me by the dummy with a warhammer in hand, watching as Njada passed by.

"She got a new nose without having to see that face sculptor in Riften," she joked.

I snorted, and we exchanged weapons. Ria looked at the bow in her hands, excited to try her hand at archery. My arms wobbled at the weight of the warhammer. It wasn't only that it was heavier than my battleaxe. _I trained earlier with Aela, and between fighting Vilkas and cleaning… I'm fucked._

It got worse. Ria got into position, her stance too open. She was holding the bow wrong too. I wasn't faring any better. I tried to find my grip on the warhammer. _This… this was a terrible idea._

"What in the name of Talos are you doing?"

I spun around to see Vilkas, eying Ria and I with a puzzled look.

"No. Wait. Tell me you're not trying to teach each other," he asked, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice.

"Why not?" Ria asked.

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Your feet are too far apart and you're going to twist your elbow. You need the proper form if you're going to shoot that thing. I'd show you, but it's getting late. Call it a day. I'll ask Aela to train you tomorrow."

Ria gave him a brilliant smile, thanked him, and headed back into the mead hall.

Vilkas took the warhammer away from me. I wanted to protest, but he said, "Your arms are shaking. It won't do you any good to train today either. Tomorrow's another day."

It was the least hostile thing he said since he met me. I didn't think I got through to him, but perhaps I hadn't given him enough credit.

"Are you saying you'll train me?" I asked.

"I am," he said, and shot me a sharp glance. "But I won't take it easy on you."

Now that was a surprise. I looked at him, trying to figure out what made him change his mind. Like I told him with Kodlak, I didn't want a meaningless apology, the same way I didn't want him to train me if he didn't want to.

"Shouldn't we discuss what we spoke about earlier?" I asked.

"Let's start with this. Then we can talk."

I wasn't convinced, and the look on my face must have told him so.

He frowned. "We will talk soon, but for now, let's keep it simple. Please."

The finality in his tone told me not to push my luck.

"Tomorrow," I said, making sure that I understood him.

"Tomorrow," he confirmed.

Vilkas left me alone in the yard, confused more than pleased. The offer should have made me happy, but it was a hollow victory. No matter how much I wanted to believe that everything Kodlak, Tilma, and I said registered with him, but it was far from the truth. He was doing it to appease Kodlak more than any sense of remorse. I don't know why it hurt me. No motivation was a wrong motivation in this case, but I wanted better from him too.

***

"So lemme get this straight. You used your shout on Vilkas from there and he crashed here?" Torvar asked at supper, almost spilling his ale on Athis as he pointed to the table. "And you knocked Njada out with a punch? Why is it the one day I stay in bed all the exciting shit happens?"

"Because you're always hungover," Athis remarked, his voice dry.

"And you're the Dragonborn. Damn woman. You're Tamriel's most eligible bachelorette after Jarl Elisif—ow! Hey! That hurt!" Torvar whined as Ria jabbed him in the ribs. The sight made me chuckle.

"The burden of being Dragonborn is immense," Athis reminded him, and he flashed me a sympathetic look. "I see why you hid it. Coming to a strange place and being marked as an outsider isn't easy. I felt the same after I moved from Morrowind. Not that there's any comparison with being Dragonborn, but you understand what I mean, I hope."

"I do. Thanks for the kind words," I said, a small grin coming on my face.

I half-expected Torvar and Athis to gawk or ask a thousand questions. The teasing and the compassion were welcome. So, this was what life at Jorrvaskr and what the Companions was like. This could be home too. _All it took for that realization was ramming Vilkas into the table_.

Everyone gathered to listen to one of Vignar's stories. This one was about a dishonored Thane of Whiterun. The story goes that there was a prideful man who upset one of the Divines. He cheated his way to Thaneship, tricking the Jarl that he performed some great deed. Stendarr cursed the Thane and all of his kin—they would never achieve their heart's desires and lead miserable lives. The most common version of the tale claimed that his terrible deeds came to light and the people of Whiterun threatened to run him out of town, but Stendarr remained merciful. He created an escape route that connected from the Thane's home to the house of their most loyal friend, giving the dishonored Thane a chance to flee. No one knows what happened to the Thane or their kin.

It was a fine story, but I heard it hundreds of times before. Farkas noticed that I didn't seem invested and motioned me to come sit next to him.

"You doing alright?" he asked, handing me a mug of ale.

"I am. Long day, but not all bad," I answered. I turned to him, noticing he didn't look like himself. "Are you okay?"

"You and Vilkas worried me," he said, sounding tired.

"Did you think Kodlak was going to kick us both out?" I asked, surprised over his concern.

He shook his head. "It isn't that. I know what it's like when things are tense around here. I didn't want that for either of you."

Farkas sipped at his ale, lost in some old memory. I wanted to reach out to him and ask what he meant. Was someone upset with him? If so, who could be upset at Farkas? The man was a sweet roll personified. I wouldn't prod, but I laid a hand on his shoulder. I wasn't good at comforting others, but I hoped that helped. Farkas gave me a slight smile, a hint of brightness peering through his otherwise somber expression. _That's better._

"Don't worry about that. Things are… strained between Vilkas and I, but we're working on it. He's going to be training me."

"You don't seem too happy about it," he noted, and I frowned.

"I should be, but it's still tense. Will he be able to put his dislike for me aside?"

It was Farkas' turn to offer me reassurance. "I'll help you out with training too. But I think you got through to him. Give him time to come around."

"Wait, did you speak with him?" I asked, discovering yet another surprising thing throughout this conversation.

Farkas smiled at me and nodded.

"So you're not angry that I used my Thu'um on your brother?" I asked.

"Oh no, he had it coming. I'm surprised you didn't use it sooner."

We laughed, it was a pleasant sound after the stress from earlier. The tension on his face vanished, and a grin settled on my face too. He did that often, with gentle teasing.

"You're my friend. You and Vilkas don't get along, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. I've got your back," he assured me.

"I've got yours too," I said.

Farkas' grin reached his eyes. He knew I meant it. I stole a glance. His support made me feel warm, like a hearth in the middle of winter. It meant something that Farkas cared. _Anyone would be lucky to have him by their side_ , I mused.

All warmth vanished when Njada appeared out of nowhere and sat next to me. _Did she have to come now?_ I groaned.

"Hey big guy. Can you give the new whelp and me some time alone?" Njada asked.

"Depends. Are you two gonna fight?" he asked, all the friendliness in his voice gone.

"Nah. She healed me. She doesn't want me to fuck up her work, as fun as that would be," she answered, and I glared at her. If she broke her nose a second time, I would leave her to suffer.

"Alright. Fine. But you better not cause any trouble," he said.

"Don't worry about that. I already got my spiel from the Harbinger today."

Farkas clapped my shoulder as he gave us our space. _No wait, come back_ , I wanted to shout, but he left. _Great. Now I have to deal with her_.

"Did you get the 'be better' speech too?" I asked, refilling my mug. Divines knew I was going to need it to get through this conversation.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," she said, shrugging, and poured more ale into her mug too. "The Harbinger has a lot of faith in us but I don't know why."

"It feels good when someone has that faith in you, no?"

She shrugged. "Eh. Sometimes I miss no one expecting much from me. Anyway, I have a lot of respect for the old man and he's right. I owe you an apology."

"For?"

"For being a complete bitch, as you put it."

I almost choked on my ale. An apology for being a complete bitch? By the Nine, what forbidden realm did I stumble into? Njada took my silent disbelief as an assent to move forward with her apology.

"It was fun bossing you around those first couple of weeks, watching you do everything you can to prove yourself. It was kind of funny too, having you, a Thane, do my every whim," she continued.

"We have two very different views of funny," I said, glowering at her. She was worse at apologies than I was.

She glared right back at me. "Hey. I never said _you_ had to find it funny. Then you used your … Well, that wasn't your shout. You used that on Vilkas today, didn't you?"

"I did."

"I would have never fucked around with you if I knew you could do that. Don't look at me like that. Fine, I shouldn't have done anything when I figured out you're Dragonborn. I wanted to get even for the yard and I wasn't thinking straight."

"And you should have never joked about the dragon attack," I said.

She frowned, looking ashamed. "I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. We don't have to be friends, but we don't have to slice each other's throats either."

I tried to gage her sincerity. _This better not be another way to get me out of the Companions_. Her amber eyes were devoid of ill intention, her smugness replaced with something closer to humility. If she took my peace offering in good faith, I had to do the same with her apology, especially if Kodlak admonished her. Only time would prove her earnestness.

"Apology accepted, but I meant everything in the yard. If you try something on me again, I won't hesitate to use my Thu'um," I warned.

"I'm petty, but I'm not a petty idiot. Mind you, I'm glad I didn't get the beating Vilkas did."

My lips quirked into a grin. "I think everyone is."

Njada snorted and raised her glass to that. I didn't trust her yet, but this was a start.

***

There was one last thing that I wanted to do before I slept. I considered approaching Ria or Farkas, but I nixed the idea. False hope was worse than no hope. I knocked on the Harbinger's door.

"Come on in," he called out.

I found him still pouring over the same book from earlier. He hadn't shown up to eat supper, and there was still a plate of untouched food on his table. _Does he not have an appetite or does he not care?_ That wasn't wise. Regardless of what his ailment was, he needed to remain nourished. That could worsen his condition, whatever it was.

Kodlak gave me a kind smile despite our situation from earlier. "Anyaie. This is a surprise. Is there something I can help you out with?"

"No, Harbinger, but I wanted to thank you for your graciousness. Many people wouldn't have given me another chance."

"There's no need to thank me. I trust our talk will guide you down the right path."

"You have my word, but there's something weighing on me. Can we talk?"

"Come take a seat."

The older man limped to the table and sat down, his breathing heavy. He was pallid and though his face wasn't hollowed the way most with serious illnesses were, his eyes were sunken in, murky. I was apprehensive, but I pushed forward. If it was possible to grant the old man another chance after he gave me one, I had to try.

"Tell me. What's on your mind?" he asked.

"There are rumors that you aren't well," I answered, and I could see him shutting down. A warrior like Kodlak was proud. These were the people who begrudged their condition for taking away their vitality and stripping them of their prowess. It was a battle, but a different one altogether.

"I am ill. I suppose you're offering help. Njada told me you healed her nose, but this isn't that simple," he cautioned.

"I've treated everything from ataxia to the rattles at least once. I can't promise you a cure, but there might be something else I can do to help."

The old man was skeptical, so I urged him again. "All I ask is for me to see what you have. I swear by my honor that I won't swindle you or raise your hopes."

"You are free to try, but I suspect it will be of no use."

I nodded and approached him. The warmth flooded to the center of my palm as I laid my hand on his head. It started from my feet, a slithering vine that weakened my muscles. My knees buckled, and I collapsed forward, but Kodlak propped me back up. That strange vine crawled up to my chest and squeezed my insides. It caught me in a stronghold, choking me. I yanked my hand away from his scalp, the sensation left after, but I still wheezed.

"Are you okay? Do you need water?" he asked.

"No… no… H-how… how long?" I panted.

"A year."

"Do they?" I asked pointing up to the ceiling, all the while still trying to catch my breath.

"Only the Circle knows the extent of it. I suspect I have a few more months left, if I'm lucky."

The tightness returned in my chest, different from earlier. If what I went through was even a fraction of what he experienced, I couldn't imagine the continual pain that came from living. For a moment, the man of Ria's stories flashed in my mind, a stark contrast with the somber reality of the man he became. Few people deserved such a terrible illness, least of them being Kodlak. I never got over how unfair the Divines were.

"I'm sorry. I can't cure you."

He offered me a weak smile. "I know, my girl. I've already made peace with this disease taking over my body."

"I can craft elixirs to ease the pain, if you'd like."

"Arcadia tried, but they didn't work."

"There are different strains of the rot, and there are a multitude of combinations to ease the symptoms. Arcadia's bright, and two alchemists are better than one. We'll figure something out for you."

"The effort means everything. I want to enjoy the last moments I have on the Mundus with my family.

Despite everything, he appeared at peace with his inevitable death. Flashes of my time assisting my father came back to me. He was taking it better than most. But, something else was bothering me.

"There is one thing that puzzles me. If you're aware you're ill, why are you looking at curses?" I asked.

Kodlak gave me a cryptic smile. "Another conversation for another day. Keep your focus on the elixirs.

I bowed my head. "I will. I've talked your ear off enough for one night. I'll leave you to rest. Goodnight, Harbinger."

"Goodnight."

On my way out, Kodlak added, "Don't tell the others I said this, but Vilkas deserved your Thu'um. Just don't make a habit of using it on him when he upsets you or else you'll end up with a sore throat."

We shared a grin, bringing some life back into the old man's eyes.

"And there's no need to thank me either," he added. "You chose this path, and I honored it. My predecessor did the same for me. It's only right I do it for someone as spirited as you."

The tears welled in my eyes. I mumbled out a thank you and returned to the whelp's quarters. _You chose this path._ His acknowledgment meant more to me than words could express.

Unfortunately, you don't get to choose everything that life throws in your direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading <3 Comments are welcome, and so is telling me how excited you are that Njada and Anyaie are buddies XD


	14. Summons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! A spooky-ish update. Happy Halloween everyone!

_Fredas, 16th_ _day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

The skies darkened as I rode in silence, my thoughts being my only company. The knot in my stomach tightened with each step we took towards Whiterun. I tried distracting myself by forming a plan for what I needed to do once we were back at Jorrvaskr. _You'll let the others know about the dragon attack, swallow your pride, and go to High Hrothgar. You can deal with the Farkas issue once you sort out what you're doing about the dragons._ It sounded so simple when I thought of it that way, though it was never that simple.

Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled, and a chill travelled down my spine. Something felt wrong. My pace slackened, allowing Vilkas to catch up to me. He flashed me a concerned glance that I pretended not to notice. Vilkas didn't need to carry any more of my burdens than he already had. Besides, what would I tell him? _I'm Harbinger of the Companions, I've encountered worse than a pack of mangy wolves_ , I reminded myself.

All was silent once more until a breeze rustled through the trees. The sound drew me out of my thoughts, and I brought my horse to a halt. I scanned the empty road. _Nothing_. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. _Must be some animal running from the wolf, or the wind,_ I concluded. I almost laughed at my paranoia, yet the lingering malaise followed me along Skyrim's roads.

A thick cloud of fog covered the road ahead. Vilkas and I looked at each other, debating whether we should find another path, but the fog surrounded us.

"I suppose the only way is going through it," he said, grimacing.

"Suppose so. I'll cast a light spell," I said.

The magic swelled into my palm, and a small white light flickered on my fingertips, until it extinguished. My brow furrowed, and I tried again, only to have the same thing happen again. Although alteration magic was not my speciality, I knew how to cast an apprentice level spell.

"It's no use," Vilkas told me as I attempted to cast the spell again. "I don't think this is a normal fog."

A chorus of wolves howled before I answered him. The hair on my body stood on end. _The sound of the hunt._ I closed my eyes, the scent of blood tickling my nose. _Prey_. Fragments of old memories and nightmares resurfaced, blending into a blur.

"Anyaie," Vilkas called out, snapping me out of my trance.

A white stag appeared before us.

My heart lurched in my chest. _This can't be happening_. I should have drawn my axe or a dagger, anything. Instead, I stood frozen in fear. The beast's eyes bore into mine like two black soul gems. Familiar laughter tore through my head, making my temples throb. _Did you really think I would let you forget?_ the stag asked.

"What do you want?" I demanded, sounding braver than I felt.

 _What I wanted months ago when you interfered in my hunt_ , the stag said.

"You have no hold on me anymore! Not over any of us!" I snapped.

_So you think. The hunt begins anew, mortal. You and your pack cannot escape my grasp, and you will be no base prey. Now go forth and amuse me, as you always do._

The stag's laughter roared in my ears as it vanished, the fog disappearing along with it. The clouds were thicker and darker than they were before. All remaining traces of bravado escaped as my terror gripped at me.

"We need to get back to Jorrvaskr," I ordered.

Vilkas didn't need to be told twice. We rode towards Whiterun at breakneck speed, the sound of wolves and thunder following us as we went.

***

 _Turdas, 3rd_ _day of Sun's Height, 4E 202_

"It all comes down to footwork," Vilkas said, showing me the proper stance for the greatsword. "Do you see how I'm on the balls of my feet?"

"Like this?" I asked, mirroring his position.

"Like that. Try hitting the dummy."

Though Vilkas started me with the battleaxe and the warhammer, he decided it was time I tackle using a greatsword. The weapon felt foreign to me. Vilkas ordered me to stop and fix my feet before I hit the dummy. _Left foot first, then right_ , I repeated, then struck. It wasn't a powerful blow, but it did the trick.

"Not bad. Once you get your form right, you'll be able to put your strength into it," he said.

"Excuse me, Companion," a sheepish voice called out.

Vilkas and I turned to see a young man dressed in commoner's clothes, a letter in his hands.

"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver—your hands only. A letter from the Jarl," the courier announced.

 _A letter from a Jarl?_ I wondered, watching as the courier handed the letter to Vilkas. Vilkas nodded and thanked the lad before he scampered off. The seal wasn't that of Whiterun; all my time at The Bannered Mare was enough to remind me what the hold's emblem was. Vilkas tore open the letter, skimming its contents. He rolled his eyes.

"Is that letter troubling?" I asked.

He gave me a sharp look and read through the letter again. It was my turn to roll my eyes. Divines forbid we spoke about anything more than my training. If I had any hope of my words getting through to him after Kodlak reprimanded us, it trickled away in the month we trained together. Vilkas contented himself with training me, never broaching the issue between us. _This is getting old… no, it got old a month ago_ , I realized.

I snatched the letter from his hands.

"Hand that back!" he demanded.

"I asked you a question," I said.

"And I gave you an answer!" he insisted, still trying to grab the letter back.

"You call _that_ an answer? If I did the same to you, you would brood about it into next week. Wait, since I have it…" I turned away, blocking his attempts to steal the letter. "Let me see what the Jarl wants from you."

"That's confidential! Godsdamn it, new blood! Hand it back!"

"Shush. I can't read with your yammering."

_Dear Companions,_

_I require your assistance for a delicate matter. I cannot disclose the nature of the dilemma in this letter. If you can send me one amongst your best, preferably someone who is discreet, I will reward them handsomely for their efforts._

_Your service to Falkreath is invaluable._

_I remain,_

_Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath_

I frowned and handed the letter back to Vilkas, regretting my flippancy. The matter seemed serious if the Jarl wrote to the Companions asking for someone discreet. Although, I didn't see what annoyed Vilkas. The Jarl needed the Companions' help. Wasn't it their job to ensure he received help?

"Forgive me. I assumed he wanted you to clear out bandits or something," I said.

"That's what it is, knowing Siddgeir," Vilkas said, pocketing the letter. "However, it doesn't change the fact you pried into something that wasn't your business."

"Your hypocrisy hurts my brain, Companion," I said, rubbing my forehead for show.

Vilkas sighed. "Let's not do this. We were doing fine until now."

"We've become civil, but we haven't worked through our issues," I reminded him, ignoring his frown. "A month has passed. I appreciate you training me, even if it is to appease the Harbinger and..."

"Stop right there. I'm not training you to appease the Harbinger. I'm doing it because it's the right thing," he answered.

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't one of them. I thought I misheard, or that he was playing a cruel joke on me, but his eyes were as serious as they ever were.

"If you are going to be my shield-sister one day, and that is a huge 'if,' you will need all the training you can get. I was a prideful fool denying you training. I'm sorry."

Vilkas stunned me into silence. I didn't delude myself into thinking he listened to me; even if he did, he would never admit to it. At least he took Kodlak and Tilma's words to heart. An apology for not training was a start.

_Don't stand there like an idiot. Say something._

"Apology accepted. It doesn't change that we haven't discussed the matter," I warned. I needed to stay firm in my stance; one right step didn't compensate for all of our issues.

"You're right," he admitted, almost as if it pained him. "We'll discuss the matter when I come back from Falkreath tomorrow."

"You?" I asked, knitting my brows. "Farkas told me there's a scholar coming this evening that you wanted to talk to. Won't you miss him if you go?"

"Siddgeir is a complicated character. It's not like I can wait for Skjor or Aela to come back so they can deal with it. The Jarl is an impatient man-child who expects someone right away. I can't send Farkas either. He's too honest to deal with Siddgeir."

That gave me an idea. I took no jobs that week, deciding it was best to stay at Jorrvaskr and focus on Kodlak's potions. Despite passing through Falkreath on my travels, I never had an excuse to stay there for any prolonged period. This was an exception—the job was for the Jarl himself. If I could do this, I could prove myself worthy of being a Companion. At the very least, it would pay well. It might come in handy.

"Send me," I suggested.

Vilkas scoffed at this. "Look new blood, your verve is nice, but you're not even a Companion."

"Siddgeir doesn't need to know that. He wanted someone discreet, yes? I can do that. I'm also a Thane of Whiterun, which means I have status. Don't give me that look. I don't like using my title anymore than I enjoy gargling barnacles, but if it helps mentioning it, I'll do it."

Vilkas pondered this and pulled out the letter again. He was torn between sending me and going himself. Dealings with Jarls were delicate matters. I counted myself lucky that Jarl Balgruuf was a reasonable man. If Siddgeir was as obnoxious as Vilkas made him out to be, the Companions needed someone able to handle him. _If I haven't strangled Vilkas, Jarl Siddgeir can't be so bad_.

"It just might work," Vilkas said, giving me the letter. "If he catches wind you're Dragonborn, don't deny it. The Jarl is important, but he likes to feel important too. If he finds out we've sent him a thane who happens to be the Dragonborn, he'll be more generous with payment."

"That suits me fine. If you don't mind ending my training earlier, I'll pack what I need so I can head out by this afternoon. Before I do, I want to see the Harbinger."

"Of course. Don't delay too long, though. Report back to me when you're done."

I nodded and went to the whelp's quarters to pick up the vials I created the night before. Over the last month, Arcadia and I spent our time researching elixirs to soothe Kodlak's pain. With the old man's blessing, I was also testing ingredients that slowed down the progression of the disease. Arcadia told me there were rumours of daedra hearts to accomplish that, and they were more effective if they were mixed with hawk feathers. It was no mean feat; daedra hearts were scarce. She had a contact willing to sell her one. The only caveat was that it was costly. If I succeeded at the Jarl's job, I would cover the first one. Perhaps we could arrange a deal with her seller if I had enough gold.

I walked into the Kodlak's quarters, finding him eating one of Tilma's stews with Farkas as company. I smiled at both of them. At least one person took my advice on something. One of my terms for assisting Kodlak was that he had to keep himself in good health. That meant no skipping meals and getting a good amount of sleep instead of reading books. Farkas was good at ensuring the old man did the former.

"Ah. It's good to see you, my girl. You have the potions ready?" he asked.

"I do," I said, laying the vials of amber liquid for him and Farkas to see. "There are fifteen vials here. I merged the two ingredients that seemed to work best on you; blisterwort and the ash hopper, along with a couple of other soothing herbs. Start with half every second day, only in the evening. It should be enough to last you two months. We can always rearrange the dose as you need."

"What are the side effects?" he asked.

"Drowsiness and some nausea. If you take more than half, you may also be prone to having nightmares."

"I understand. You're sure this will work?" Kodlak asked, examining a vial as Farkas did too. Unlike the Harbinger, Farkas appeared disturbed, knitting his brows as he looked at the potion.

"There is a good chance that it will be effective. If it doesn't, we'll try something else."

"But then you will have wasted your coin. Allow me to compensate you for your efforts."

The old man's concern touched me, but he needn't have to worry about that. I laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, I insist. There is no cost on health. Now listen, I've taken a last-minute job. If you want me to stay…"

"Don't trouble yourself," Kodlak interrupted, giving me a reassuring smile. "If there is something wrong with the potion, I'll stop taking it."

"More than that," I turned to Farkas. "If something is wrong, find me in Falkreath. I'll drop whatever I'm doing and I will come back. Do _not_ hesitate, are we clear?"

"It won't be necessary," Kodlak insisted while Farkas nodded. "Focus on your job in Falkreath. Tell me about it upon your return."

"I will. Farkas, I'll see you when I…"

"Let me help you pack for Falkreath," he said.

I thought it was a strange offer, but I nodded, and he followed me out of Kodlak's chambers.

"How's the other potion going?" Farkas asked as soon as we were in my room. "I mean, the one to slow down the rot."

"I'm looking into it," I answered, searching through my trunk for the relevant supplies. Some fortify health potions, some stamina ones, and, lo! A restore magicka one too. _Aela said those traders appreciated my work with the wolf pelts last month. She mentioned they might be looking for more soon. Falkreath is good for hunting, so I'll bring my bow with me in case. It'll be good to have some extra for next time._

"There's an ingredient I'm looking for that might help him. If I can get my hands on it, we can give it a go and…" I turned to see Farkas. He wasn't helping me; instead, he was sitting on my bed, as if he was shrinking into himself.

"What's going on?" I asked, putting my supplies aside and taking a seat next to him.

"What? Nothing," he lied, and I glared at him. "Well. Something. This thing with Kodlak… it sucks. It's just… it doesn't seem fair."

It wasn't fair, not when most people took a potion that cured them instantly. But, some cases of the rot were complex. They resisted curative potions, and they worsened over time, killing the person bit by bit every day. What happened in Kodlak's quarters came back to me, and my throat tightened at the memory.

"It isn't," I sighed, putting a hand on his knee. My words felt so inadequate, so meaningless, but I could think of no others. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"You're doing a lot for him, and it means a lot. I see you putting in this work. It…it doesn't stop me from thinking and wondering… well.. how long does he have left?" he asked. His eyes searched mine for answers I didn't have.

"I'm not sure. All we can do for him is make sure that his last days are as painless as they can be. I'll do that for him," I promised, squeezing his knee. "All you can do is stay strong for him, and for you."

"I'm trying, but I don't know what else I can do."

His helplessness made him sound so defeated. Farkas was a man who could face down a giant without hesitation. He always wore his radiant smile, never hesitating to bring a smile onto my face. But now, he looked so sad and small. It pained me. The Divines weren't fair. It hurt seeing it from a healer's perspective. It stung more knowing that Kodlak didn't deserve it. I couldn't imagine how it tore at Farkas, feeling so powerless while having to be strong.

I could give Kodlak all the potions I wanted to improve his quality of life, but I didn't know what to do for Farkas. Both my parents told me it was better to remain honest during healing, so I wouldn't give him false hope to soothe his worries. There was nothing I could say to reassure him, and I didn't want to pretend there was. The urge to pull him into a hug was stronger than me, and my arms wrapped around him. I felt his body tense in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll…" I was about to pull away, but Farkas pulled me in tighter.

 _He needs this_ , I realized. _How many burdens does he carry on his shoulders without anyone realizing it?_ I held Farkas, running my hand up and down his back, trying to comfort him. I felt just as helpless holding him, unable to do anything more for him.

"Sorry," Farkas said while pulling away, a small blush tingeing his cheeks. "Seeing all those potions, it got to me."

"Don't apologize," I said, taking his hand in mine. "I've never lost a loved one from illness, though I've seen plenty of others go through it. You care about Kodlak. It's normal it gets to you."

"I can't let it. Vilkas doesn't say much, but it eats at him. And the others…" he trailed off.

"What about the others?" I asked.

"I need to be okay for the others. I've put them through too much to not be okay. It's not fair to them," he whispered.

My eyes narrowed in confusion. I didn't understand what one thing had to do with the other. _People react to illness in different ways,_ my father once said during my training. _But there is always anger somewhere. Some get angry with the Divines, others at everyone around them, and some at themselves, or any combination of the three._

Farkas sighed and rubbed his face."I'm sorry. It's a lot to dump on you," he said, his gaze not meeting mine.

I tilted his face up, forcing him to look at me. "No. You're the one who told me I needed to talk about my feelings. So do you. You're not responsible for everyone. I'll be here for you the way you were for me."

"You're a good friend. That means something."

I smiled at him. "You're a good friend to me, Farkas. If Kodlak's potions are overwhelming to you or you're worried, I can stay behind and take care of it myself."

"No," he said, taking both of my hands in his. "You're doing enough for all of us. I've held you up long enough. Go out there. Make us proud."

"I plan on," I answered, unable to resist adding, "I'm meeting my fellow Jarl. The Jarl of Cheese Valley has to appear in court every once in a while."

A small smile spread on Farkas' face as he exclaimed, "You remember? I thought you were _way_ drunker than that."

I flashed him a sly grin. "Oh, I remember a lot of what happens when we get drunk, including someone's fifteen minute speech on why cheese is good."

"Cheese _is_ good. And we don't have enough of it in Jorrvaskr."

I laughed despite the tension. No man could ever sound so genuine as Farkas did about his love of cheese. He rewarded me with a beaming grin. There were hard times ahead of both of us, but those small moments of laughter were invaluable.

***

The Jarl of Falkreath sat upon his throne, tapping his fingers in annoyance. Next to him was an Altmer woman, whose curious golden eyes fell upon me as I approached the jarl.

"Yes? What is it that you want?" he asked.

The arrogance in his voice was enough to raise my hackles. My temper wanted to flare and tell the Jarl where to stick his summons. If the matter was so pressing like he claimed it was, why was he leaning back on his throne with no care in the world? _Be polite_ , I repeated over and over again. _No matter how obnoxious, he's still a Jarl and you need the gold for Kodlak._

"I am the Companion you sent for, my Jarl," I answered, kneeling to him.

He cocked his head. "Interesting. I've never seen you before. What is your name?"

"Anyaie Sylanitte. I've been training with the Companions for a few months." I then added, not without a hint of reluctance. "I'm a Thane of Whiterun."

Siddgeir grinned as if he won a prize as I stifled a curse. I already predicted where this conversation was heading, and I didn't like it. _Why wasn't joining the Companions enough?_

"Ah yes. I'm acquainted with Jarl Balgruuf. It took a while to worm information about the new Thane to his court. He didn't say much, only that you provided him a great service. However, rumor has it you slayed a dragon."

Still heeding Vilkas' advice, and knowing I would regret it, I said, "I did, my Jarl."

"So, there may be truth in you being Dragonborn. I'd like to hear your shout."

"My Jarl, if this woman is who you think, you can't ask her to shout," the High Elf said.

 _Good woman_ , I thought, nodding at her words. _You figured out that I'll toss him across the room and spend the rest of my life in Falkreath's jail._

"And why not, Nenya?" Siddgeir asked, pouting like a boy whose mom ruined his fun.

"You recall what happened between Ulfric and Torygg," she answered, exasperated.

I came to her aid. "Your steward is right, my Jarl. I would much prefer using my Thu'um on your enemies."

"Hmm. Very well. Don't use it here. We don't want you ruining the décor. At least those bandits won't guess what's coming for them," Siddgeir said, a satisfied smirk on his face. Nenya shot me a grateful look, and I returned a small smile.

"How can I assist you, my Jarl?" I asked.

"I'm glad you asked. There's a group of bandits in my Hold that I... may have had a few discreet dealings with. The cut they were giving me was good at first, but now it's time to clean things up. Nenya will give you their coordinates. Go and take care of it."

"As you command," I answered through gritted teeth, but I knelt again. _You keep up your face of respect as best you can. When you get Kodlak that daedra heart, it'll be worth it_.

The Jarl went off to do whatever arrogant assholes do, leaving Nenya to mark the location on my map. The steward let out a sigh and pointed to the location, which wasn't too far off from the hold itself. I frowned, looking at her, not envying her; the Jarl's haughtiness was enough to put me off within moments. Dealing with that petulance daily was a tall order, not to mention the carelessness and greed that came with such underhanded dealings.

"Thank you for coming, Companion. We appreciate your aid at such short notice," Nenya said as I rolled up my map.

"I know you do, Nenya," I said, offering her a kind smile. "I'll be swift. Hopefully it makes both of our lives easier."

She had her work cut out for her, and I did too.

***

I made it back to Falkreath that evening, the vestiges of dusk giving way to the night sky. The streets were empty, the silence hanging over me like the thick fog that clung onto the city. The haziness made the town appear like something out of a dream. _More like nightmarish_ , I observed, looking at the sprawling graveyard before me.

A woman wailed somewhere in the distance, her sobs piercing through the disquietude that greeted me earlier. I stopped, searching for the noise. Upon further investigation, I noticed a woman weeping near a small grave, her husband next to her. _She must have lost a child_. My heart broke for her. I wanted to console her, but I wasn't sure what to say, so I moved on, continuing towards the Jarl.

I entered Siddgeir's longhouse, finding him sipping from a goblet of wine.

"Well? Has it been done?" Siddgeir asked.

"It has, my Jarl," I answered.

"Excellent," he said, putting his goblet of wine aside and turning his attention to me. Siddgeir looked at me as though I were a new plaything, his eyes running up and down my body, pondering what he could do with me next. The alarms sounded at the back of my mind, warning me to proceed with caution.

"Is there something else you require of me?" I asked.

"Hmm… I like you," he said, the compliment making the hairs on my neck raise. "You're not afraid to get your hands dirty, and you don't feel the need to wax sanctimonious. Perhaps there is one more thing you can do for me."

"Name it,"I said with trepidation.

"A manbeast murdered a little girl last night. The shifter escaped our grasp and fled into the woods. I've sent my men to capture him with no luck. Her parents are demanding retribution."

My mind conjured the image of a small body torn into shreds. The woman's cries rang in my ears, a hard lump forming in my throat. _I shouldn't have ignored her_. If someone dared put a hand on my girls, I would destroy them. Siddgeir didn't care about justice, but I did. No parent deserved to suffer such a terrible loss. That child lost her life because one of Hircine's children made it more horrific.

"I'll do it," I said.

He grinned. "Excellent. I'll double your gold and grant you the title of Thane as soon as you return."

"That's unnecessary, my Jarl."

"Oh, it will be. That woman's hysterics soured my mood. Thankfully, this wine is enough to make up for it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some rest. Come find me in the morning when you've taken care of it."

He walked into his chambers, leaving me to seethe at his self-absorption. He disgusted me. What sort of human being looked at a grieving mother and cared more about himself? It burned me up, and I wasn't interested in becoming a Thane for such a dishonorable man who didn't bother fighting his own battles. I wasn't doing this for him. Those parents deserved closure.

Nenya saw my mood sour and offered a sympathetic nod.

"Forgive him, Companion. He doesn't understand others' pain. It's like it's beyond him," she said.

"Maybe someone should spank him to teach him a lesson. Ah, never mind. I bet he'd enjoy that too much," I joked.

Nenya blushed and my eyes widened. _Does she… no…_ An image of Nenya with a paddle came to mind.

"You don't… no wait… don't tell me…" I cleared my throat, trying to get the visual out of my head with little success. "Have there been any reports about the shifter?"

"Ah yes. There has been. Hand me your map," she croaked.

I didn't ask anything else, wishing there was a way to wipe the visual of the Jarl getting paddled out of my head forever.

***

Nenya's directions pointed me to a small clearing where some guards told me they spotted the shifter, but he escaped their grip. They explained the man, Sinding, was exhausted when they found him, and he transformed to fend off their attack. He used whatever remaining strength he had for his transformation, so he was resting. "Look for a haggard man with blonde hair," they said, and wished me luck on my path.

I didn't know much about Hircine's children. A few people came to my father, claiming they had the blood. Since there was no way of curing it, my father offered little advice apart from, "Control the beast." I watched as so many disappointed faces left our home, only to have my father telling me that the blood stripped people of their humanity. It was beyond his capabilities. I questioned how callous his words were. Who could kill an innocent girl?

As I continued along the woods, I came across a small makeshift campsite. There was no fire or tent, just a bedroll with some food. A man with wiry blonde hair laid on the bedroll, groaning, as if he were in the middle of a nightmare. _This has to be him_.

His eyes fluttered open as I held the blade to his neck.

"Wh-what's going on?" he asked.

"Don't move and don't change," I ordered.

"What are you…"

"I know who you are and what you did to the little girl."

The man's eyes clouded over with regret. "Believe me, it wasn't anything I ever intended to do. Please. Give me a chance to…"

"Did you give that girl a chance, monster?" I hissed, the blade nicking at his skin. The blood trickled down his neck.

"I didn't mean to! It's this ring! This blasted ring! S-see," he stammered, fumbling into his pocket and fishing out the object in question. "H-hear me out."

I would never suspect this man was violent, but then, not all monsters looked like draugr or atronachs. Sinding stared at me wide-eyed, trembling. He wasn't the cruel monster I expected, and thoughts of killing him wavered. _If I am going to end his life, I'll be fair and give him a chance to explain himself_.

"You have two minutes. Two. Convince me, shifter. Why should I let you live?" I asked, keeping the blade at his neck.

He held the ring up for me to see, the silver wolf on the ring glimmering underneath the moons. "This is the Ring of Hircine. Someone told me it could help me control my transformations. Maybe it did, but I'll never know. Hircine didn't care for my taking it and threw a curse on it. I put it on… and the changes just came to me. It would happen when I least expected it, and at the worst times, like… with the little girl."

He looked away in shame. I didn't let that stop me from asking my questions.

"And the guards? Why did you attack them?" I prodded, pressing the blade against his neck.

"The blood. It… it acts on its own accord. When I'm under threat, it flares up. I... I don't always think it has a reason though."

"And the little girl?"

"I… I don't know," he confessed. "I had just come into Falkreath. They needed help with work at the mill. I thought it would be something safe—something I could do. When I saw the little girl, I was just… I could feel it coming on. I could taste the… I needed to hunt. But this pitiful, limited body wasn't meant for hunting. It's slow. No claws. Weak, mashing teeth for chewing cud. I held in my rage as long as I could. But it boiled inside of me. She looked so fragile. Helpless prey. And then… then…"

Sinding's body shook, and a sob escaped his lips. His confession should have made my task easier. His death would please the girl's parents and right the wrongs he did by Hircine. If someone hurt my children, I would take vengeance without hesitating, yet my arm didn't move as I watched this manbeast's regret consume him.

"I don't deserve it but… but I want a chance to make this right," he said, the tears streaming down his face. "P-please. Hasn't anyone ever done the same for you?"

My prayer at Helgen came back to me, and I put my blade down. I couldn't inflict upon him the same fate I avoided months ago. I stepped back, waiting for an attack, but he did nothing. Instead, there was genuine gratitude on his face.

"How do you propose making this right?" I asked.

"I've been looking for a way to appease Hircine. There is a certain beast in these lands. A large, majestic stag. It's said that Hircine will commune with whoever slays it. I tracked it into these woods, but then had my… accident with the child. I want to beg his forgiveness. Give him back the ring. I just… I don't think he'd accept it from me," he answered.

That's when I spoke the words that damned me. "I'll take the ring to Hircine."

Sinding's harrowed face lit up. "You want to do this for me? Why?"

"I made a promise to the Divines that if they spared my life, I'd do right by others. That means you too, shifter. There's one condition—make yourself scarce. If I find out you've terrorized anyone else after tonight, I won't spare you again."

Sinding stood up and clutched my hand. "I promise I'll honor our agreement. Here. Take it," he said, pressing the ring into my palm. "I want nothing to do with this wretched thing. Seek the beast. He wanders these woods. Defeat him down and… well, the Lord of the Hunt should smile on you."

I nodded, and pocketed the ring.

"Good luck, huntress. Should our paths cross again, I will remember your kindness. Farewell, "he said, gathering his limited supplies and vanished into the woods. I prayed I made the right decision.

The two moons of Masser and Secunda shone their crimson light—Hircine's Bloodmoon. A strange tension crackled in the air. It wasn't unlike the thrill of battle, yet there was something different, somehow more alive. The stag roamed around the woods, waiting for a worthy hunter. Worthy or not, I promised to help Sinding. I reached for my bow, feeling the usual electric charge run through my body.

And so, the hunt began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're up for some good old fashioned smut and want to see where the joke about Jarl Douche Canoe's paddling comes from, I refer you to the amazing PoeticAnt44's [Impulsive Inclinations!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370/chapters/66303403)
> 
> Thanks for reading folks! Happy Halloween!
> 
> Fun fact: there is a full moon tonight...the hunter's moon. Everyone stay in. No bargaining with white stags tonight, you hear? XD


	15. Ill Met by Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just wanted to let you folks know that the posting schedule is about to slow down a bit. My goal is posting one chapter every two weeks. Life's been a bit hectic and I need all the time I can get. Thank you so much for understanding and for your patience. If/when I can get back to once a week, I'll do so. Without further ado, the climax of the Daedric quest.

My first instinct was to search for sources of food and water, thinking one of those places would lead me to the stag. I followed a nearby stream, hoping my guess would pay off. Moments later, the Divines smiled on me, as I saw the shape of antlers appearing in the distance. I lightened my footsteps, grateful for the leather armor I wore instead of my usual iron. As I inched closer and closer, I stayed out of sight, hiding myself behind a tree.

Sinding was right—the creature was majestic. It was larger than most deer I saw in Skyrim. Its fur was pure white, as though it was translucent. The beast had the strangest eyes, so black that they were like bottomless wells.

I readied my bow and took my aim. _Would it be better to get it through the heart and lungs, or should I aim for the head?_ My stomach lurched. When I hunted wolves for Aela, I didn't feel guilty. The beasts were hostile, and they attacked me on sight. This stag didn't. The deer was peaceful, lapping water without a care in the world. _It's a pity, but I promised Sinding I would do this_.

The bow pulsed in my hands like a beating heart— alive. _Fire_ , it beckoned. I let the arrow loose, watching it pierce through the stag's body, blood gushing forth from the puncture. The beast let out a painful groan, tumbling to the ground. It was a perfect shot, and one I would never replicate again.

I approached the stag, yanking the arrow from its corpse.

 _Well met, hunter_ , a gruff voice greeted.

The voice startled me at first, even more so when I noticed a glowing blue stag materialized in front of me. It emanated power, one that I can only describe as primal. Without question, this stag was an aspect of Hircine. I was no follower of the Daedra, but even I couldn't help but show respect. My body knelt for me, as if propelled by some outside force.

"Honor to you, Lord of the Hunt," I said.

 _Honor to you. I see you have found my bow_ , the stag remarked, nodding towards the weapon. _It is blessed by my own hand. It responds only to the worthiest hunters. Surely you have felt the way your skin prickles when you hold the bow, yes?_

My heart dropped to my stomach. _This is a Daedric weapon?_ For all this time I thought I enacted the will of the Divines, Hircine was playing me too. _I should have known when it felt so good_ , I swore. With that bow, Hircine had a claim to me. It taught me never to grab enchanted weapons from a troll's den ever again.

Hircine sized me up, wondering what he could do with me. It made me wish I was back in front of Jarl Siddgeir. For all of his talk, the Jarl was just a man. This stag—this aspect of Hircine— had power I couldn't comprehend. If he wanted to bend me to his will, he could do it. I couldn't disobey the Lord of the Hunt himself.

_I've been watching you for ages, it seems. You have the makings of a fine hunter. You may even be my champion. Perhaps._

This was a far more delicate situation that I expected. I didn't want to be his champion, but it wasn't in my best interest to anger the Daedric Prince.

_Huh. You're a quiet one. Why have you sought me?_

I pulled out the ring and said, "I am on an errand for one of yours. He is repenting for his actions and offers you this ring in apology for his misdeeds. Will you remove the curse from this ring?"

The stag glanced at the ring and let out something that sounded like a snort. I frowned and pocketed the ring again. There had to be a way to convince the Daedra that this was worth his time, and mine.

 _The shifter sent you on this errand?_ the stag asked.

"He did. His motivations are sincere."

_The manbeast's sincerity is for me to decide, hunter. He stole this ring from my hunters. If he cannot control the beast, he is not worthy of being one of my children. For that, he must atone._

After all my time at Jorrvaskr, I knew how to sense an order.

"What is it you require of me?" I asked.

_The fool flees to what he thinks is his sanctuary just as a bear climbs a tree to escape the hunt, but only ends up trapping himself. Seek this rogue shifter. Tear the skin from his body and make it an offering to me._

His command was enough to make me regret ever snatching that letter from Vilkas' hands. _What a damned fool I was_ , I cursed. I threw caution to the wind—I refused to belong to the Daedric Prince. He may have had his eye on me, but I was not his champion. The same way I honored my promise to the Divines, I planned on honoring Sinding. No fancy bow or threats could get me to comply with his desires.

"He's done me no wrong. I won't kill him. There must be another way," I insisted.

_There is no retribution in the hunt, mortal. It is not vengeance I seek, but the blood course of a living hunt. There are others who would gladly accept my favor. However, you have been chosen. Hmm… I see you remain unconvinced. Very well, if I must._

The stag morphed into a man—no, not quite a man, not when his head was still that of a stag with dark eyes. He stood taller than any being I met, making even the twins look short in comparison. He was every bit as majestic as he was dreadful. The Daedric Prince approached me with all the grace and power of a hunter. If I hadn't known better, I could have sworn that he grinned at me with an unsettling glee.

"Close your eyes," he ordered, and I complied. "You will see what you are reluctant to admit."

Before I had the chance to question, a powerful blow knocked me backwards, sending me tumbling to my feet. My head throbbed as I pried my eyes open. The wide-eyed, bloodied face of a corpse faced mine as I turned to get up. I shrieked, scampering backwards, trying to calm my racing heart. I pulled myself up, only to take in my surroundings. The woods were gone, replaced with cold stone and dripping stalagmites. This wasn't Falkreath—this was Bleak Falls Barrow.

 _How strangely you react to your first kill,_ Hircine's voice rang in my head.

"Why have you taken me here? We were in Falkreath moments ago and…"

_Your body remains in Falkreath. All I have done is take you back to the first time you took another's life. Tell me, was it not thrilling for you, hunter?_

The Daedric Prince awaited my response, patient as he was.

"I didn't kill for sport," I answered.

_That wasn't what I asked. Did you enjoy killing him or did you not?_

I shuddered, remembering the odd delight at taking away my first life, how powerful I was as the bandit fell before my feet. Why didn't my disgust take over? Did that make me a true warrior, or did it make me a monster? I once told Hadvar I did it because it was the right thing to do. The sight of the bandit's corpse now… it was too much.

_Do you see, Dovahkiin? This is your nature. You killed these bandits as a wolf devours its prey._

"I was inexperienced, and lucky," I argued.

_Inexperienced perhaps, but it wasn't luck. It's in your blood. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to use my bow. Your path is entwined with mine. The sooner you come to accept that, the better._

The revelation struck me like an arrow, piercing the heart of the matter as my arrow pierced the stag. Hircine was right—shedding blood came easier to me than healing ever did. That damned bow. I couldn't deny how it felt in my hands, not when those sparks coursed in my veins that same night. For all of my promises to the Aedra, The Lord of the Hunt gripped me. I once chided the foolish man in the Daedric ballad for entwining himself with the Daedra—now I was no better.

Hircine took my silence as assent, and my eyes fluttered open. I was back in Falkreath. The Daedric Prince resumed the form of the stag, hovering above me.

 _You understand now that you are at my beck and call?_ he asked.

"Yes," I answered, my voice not sounding like my own.

_And you will kill this shifter?_

"Yes."

_Excellent. Your arrows have been blessed with silver. Go. Follow my trail, my hunter. My other followers vie for my favor for a bit of competition, but you are my chosen. Prove your worth and don't dally while my prey flees._

The stag vanished, and the forest floor shimmered underneath the moonlight, forming a path that guided me to Sinding's whereabouts.

"Divines forgive me," I whispered, following Hircine's magic.

***

I entered the grotto, not expecting the lush greenery or the sound of rushing water. The place was probably lovelier in the daytime, but the Bloodmoon shone its crimson light, and a nervous energy crackled in the air. My blood thrummed, and every nerve was on alert, waiting for something to happen.

I spotted Sinding near a small fire, warming his hands. Hircine's command echoed as I took the first step towards the shifter. He was absorbed in thought, his eyes never leaving the flame. My chest hurt at his serene expression. I offered him a second chance, and I was about to snatch it away from him.

He heard me coming, whether that was because of his instincts or the hearing that came with his condition. The shifter's eyes darkened, crestfallen.

"… you? Why?" he asked.

My throat was dry. There was no suitable answer. Still, I sputtered out, "I've been told to kill you."

"And I would deserve it, wouldn't I? I can't stop you if that's what you want to do. Hircine is too powerful."

I drew my blade, the regret settling in. "I don't think I have any more choice in the matter than you do. It's not like I can defy Hircine. He's made a claim on me."

Sinding's eyes bore into mine, as if piercing through my skull. "There is always a choice, hunter."

An arrow whizzed past us, missing Sinding's head by less than an inch. He sprang up, glaring ahead of him. Hircine's hunters arrived, at least ten of them.

Sinding clutched at his head, grunting like he was trying to push something back in. His skin bulged and rippled, giving way to thick, dark fur, his hands turning into claws. Sinding was on his knees, still trying to resist the change, while more arrows flying shot past of us. Our eyes locked, and I saw the flash of regret in them before they turned into the golden eyes of the beast, his face morphing into its wolfish form. With his transformation complete, Sinding howled, stopping some hunters in their tracks.

The shifter took advantage of their hesitancy and charged towards them. They continued to shoot their arrows at him, hoping to slow him down, but Sinding was quicker. He dug a claw into a hunter, and the poor bastard didn't have a chance to scream. The carnage didn't end there as Sinding bit into one of the other hunters, entrails dripping out of him.

There I stood, transfixed in horror. Such bloodshed. It wasn't normal. _If Hircine discovers I didn't..._ I didn't want to finish the thought.

Only one hunter remained by the time Sinding was done, and he had enough sense to retreat, but Sinding snatched him in his jaws.

"Sinding," I called out, hoping I could stop this from getting worse.

The shifter ignored me, engrossed in his feast

" _Sinding_!" I shouted, and the whole grotto shook. Sinding dropped the hunter's body to the ground. He turned to me, his fur matted with blood, his eyes dilated. I could smell the metallic scent of blood as it clung to the air.

"Sinding."

He stalked towards me. _Run, you idiot!_ the voice inside my head screamed. My feet couldn't move. My legs were like tree stumps, heavy and rooted in place.

"Sinding. I don't want to hurt you," I pleaded, my voice trembling, afraid. _There has to be a way to get through to him. Somehow._

He slowed down, listening. Emboldened, I added, "I made a promise to you. I want to honor it. The man I met in the forest wouldn't want this. Change back, Sinding… please… I'll defy Hircine and help you…"

If I helped him, it proved I could defy Hircine. That I could still honor my promise to the gods. Then maybe I could prove I wasn't the bloodthirsty monster Hircine told me I was—until all of it shattered.

Sinding's stare was devoid of recognition. A cold terror overcame me—I wasn't a friend anymore. The man who stood before me moments ago disappeared, replaced with the beast that slaughtered that little girl. I pulled out my axe, ready to attack, when Sinding lunged at me, grabbing the weapon out of my hands and tossing it aside. Fear grasped me in its maw as Sinding's hungry eyes fell upon me once more.

Like a rabbit facing a wolf, I scampered away. I was sure that the Daedric Prince watched in amusement as his chosen hunter fled the terrifying beast. This wasn't right—I should have been able to grab my weapon and fight again, but I couldn't. My Thu'um wasn't able to build in my throat, failing me.

I dashed towards a set of stone steps, Sinding hot on my heels. I missed a step, falling on the way up. My knees and palms scraped against the steps. The werewolf had me in his grasp as I tried pulling myself back on my feet. It was too late—Sinding hovered above me, ready to dig into my flesh, until the sound of a horn blared in the distance. His head snapped towards the sound, ears perked. More hunters arrived.

I scrambled away from him, continuing my way up the steps. Sinding lost interest in me, charging towards the sound. There was better prey. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I knew this wasn't the end of it. I took the opportunity to heal myself.

The steps led to a shrine of Talos. The statue of the Divine loomed over me as I tended to my wounds. _I don't know how I got into this mess either_ , I thought, the golden light in my palms flickering as I healed my scraped hands and knees. It could have been worse. It could have been way worse.

The cries of pain echoed in the grotto, as did Sinding's howls. I shuddered. Those hunters didn't stand a chance against him. It was a matter of time before Sinding searched for me again. Another shiver ran through my body. It hurt thinking that the mild man I encountered earlier that night was capable of such violence. _He's not in control of himself_ , I reasoned, though it did nothing to reassure me.

For the time being, it was just the statue of Talos and me. _Look, Talos, how he cuts down those hunters_. _If I allow him to live, he'll take away more lives. That little girl, she didn't deserve to die._ The promise I made Sinding happened while he was a man. I never agreed to help the beast. It was a workaround, and it didn't contradict my vow, but it wasn't right. Sinding was the beast, and vice versa—no amount of nitpicking changed that.

I returned my focus to the statue of Talos. The god stood in triumph over the dragon he conquered. Ysmir, the Nords called him. The patron of questing heroes. _Would you understand if I broke that promise, fellow Dragonborn?_ I asked. No answer—not that I expected any.

I drew the bow from its quiver, wishing it didn't feel so good. If I was going to do this, I had no choice but to use it. The guilt tried to push its way into my mind, but I shoved it down. Sinding was beyond saving, and I had my own hide to consider.

The sounds of the hunt grew closer. I kept my footsteps light as I made my way down the steps once more, leading me to another wooded area. I nocked the arrow, keeping my bow ready. Sinding and the hunters drew closer, and I hid amongst the trees, quiet, waiting.

Sinding came into sight, chasing after two hunters. Despite their best efforts, Sinding tore through them, the blood spluttering and splashing around him. I suppressed the gag rising to my throat. _Keep quiet. If not, you'll alert him to your presence._

If Aela was with me, she would tell me that the shifter did not differ from any other prey. A beast was still a beast, and any beast could fall prey to a good enough hunter. He was like the wolves I hunted for the traders. I shoved down all of my disgust and fear. Sinding wasn't a man anymore; he was my prey.

Sinding was too distracted devouring the hunters' remains to notice my presence. I took advantage of that, aiming right at his back. I let the arrow loose, watching it fly and pierce through his fur. He let out a howl, trying to reach the arrow, thrashing like a bear caught in a trap. _I can't let him suffer like this_. It was harder to aim at a moving target, but I did it anyway. One arrow pierced him through the chest, the other in his arm. He tumbled to the ground, groaning as the silver seeped through his veins, poisoning him.

The sound of laughter rang in my ears. I lowered my bow, and the regret crashed over me. I did what Hircine wanted me to do.

I jumped down from the small ledge, rushing towards Sinding. The beast struggled, whimpering. The golden light flickered in my palm, but it never built enough to become useful. I swore, trying to have him hold on for one more moment. Whatever I did was enough to get him to stop whimpering and open his eyes. The recognition flooded in, as did the shame.

"Hunter…" Sinding said, his voice gravelly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my tears pooling. "I wanted to help you… I didn't want to…"

With his last bits of strength, Sinding put a bloody paw on my arm. "No. I am. We were… both trapped. But… you don't have to… f-follow him."

"How, Sinding? You see what he's capable of…"

"Find a way," he urged, his golden eyes still boring into mine as their vitality vanished. "G-good… luck."

His breathing stopped, and the tension eased away from his face.

A strangled cry escaped my lips from the anguish and regret boiling inside of me, until it exploded into rage. I pulled myself off the ground. This was Hircine's doing. Hircine inflicted Sinding with this curse, a curse he was so desperate to control, but failed. Hircine roped me into this game, first with the bow, then with Sinding. The Lord of the Hunt made me act against my own principles and made me believe I had no agency when I did. The Daedric Prince won this round, but he couldn't control me, not any longer.

One hunter that Sinding attacked dropped an axe. Though it wasn't mine, it was a fine weapon. I thought I had no choice, but the shifter was right; there was always a choice, so I chose to do this on my own terms.

I made my way to the hunters stationed near the waterfall. They cheered as they saw me return. The wrath seethed and bubbled in my chest.

"You brought him down for the glory of Lord Hircine," one remarked. "We honor you and praise you, hunter. Come, join us. Celebrate your victory."

Another held a flask towards me. Sinding's death wasn't a victory. I wanted no part of it, and I wanted no part of them.

The world turned redder than the Bloodmoon. A shout tore through me, clawing at my throat, desperate for release. Some of them fell on their backs, others kept their balance, but I didn't care. My instincts overtook me, the axe an extension of my body. All I remember was the blood, their cries of pain, begging me for mercy. The hunt was merciless, and so was I. Hircine had no claim on me. He would never have a claim on me.

I ended my slaughter with one hunter's head rolling away. My breaths came out in heavy pants as a piercing whistle rung in my ears. The world was still again, the Bloodmoon's crimson illuminating the violence surrounding me.

The grotto had bodies strewn everywhere. Those hadn't just been Sinding's doing—they were mine, too. For the first time in months, the putrid stench of death became too much, and I retched.

Sinding was right—there was always a choice, but he failed to mention that all choices had consequences. I thought of that as I took his hide, hating every moment of it.

***

Once I collected myself, I left the grotto, the hide in my hands. I tried not to look at it. My weariness settled in, and I groaned at the sight of the stag waiting for me. My willingness to deal with the Daedric Prince dwindled the moment I skinned the shifter.

_Well met again, hunter. I see you've returned bloodied, but victorious. I see you have the hide in your hands too. Hand it over and I will gift you with my blessing._

"No. The hide is mine. I defy you and your vile tasks," I snarled.

_So you may think. You proved yourself a worthy hunter tonight. By bringing down my other hunters, you turned the chase inside out. You're deserving of my blessing._

"I want nothing to do with your blessing," I protested, but I heard it come out as a whine.

 _You dare refuse my gifts?_ The stag shot me a menacing gaze, its dark eyes challenging me.

The Daedric Prince wouldn't intimidate me, not when I wanted to avoid becoming his instrument. Sinding's death at my hands was too much. I didn't want to picture what else the Daedric Prince would ask of me if I put myself in his service.

"I do. You play wicked games, Daedra. I refuse to take any part in them ever again."

_Very well. Keep the hide. I hoped I would be able to persuade you, but I see you're beyond reason. I shall have you by blessing or by curse._

Hircine covered me in a suffocating fog. My frayed nerves were alert once more, assessing the situation, realizing that this didn't bode well.

 _Hear me, hunter. We are ill met by moonlight_ , Hircine's voice boomed. _In rejecting my blessing, you have damned yourself and your pack. You have cursed them to become prey, and they shall suffer great losses at your hand. In time, they will come to resent you._

_But you, your punishment will be all the worse. You will be tormented by the blood at every step. It will call to you, entice you at every turn. You will crave it, desire it, and heed its power. You will never escape it, and you will always succumb to its power._

"But why me?" I asked.

_It's your reluctance to see the truth. You believe you're so principled with your promises to the Aedra, but you cannot deny your true nature, Dovahkiin. You seek domination. You play at your humbleness and your meekness, but those are a facade. Something stronger lurks within you, something more primal. That is the mark of a true predator. A shame you don't see it yet. Now go forth and claim the glory you earned for killing the shifter. But remember—I shall follow you at every step._

The fog cleared, revealing the crack of dawn behind the clouds. The stag vanished, leaving me to deal with the dreadful knot inside my chest and the cursed ring in my pocket.

***

"I demand justice, my Jarl!" a woman yelled as I entered the longhouse. "You promised the manbeast would be dead by morning, and I've seen no proof!"

Nenya, not trusting the Jarl to speak, answered, "Be patient, Indara. We all mourn and lament the loss of Lavinia, but we have a Companion dealing with the shifter."

"And it looks like she's returned," Jarl Siddgeir added, scrunching his nose when he saw me. "By the smell of it, you've dealt with the shifter."

Indara and her husband turned to Sinding's hide. I tried imagining what they were experiencing, the simultaneous disgust and relief at the sight of their daughter's murderer dead. I imagined I would experience much of the same emotions.

I handed the hide to Indara, and said, "It has been done."

Indara clutched it in her hands, a myriad of emotions playing on her harrowed face. Her gaze met mine, grateful.

"Thank you, Companion. How can we ever repay you?" she asked.

"I didn't do this for a reward. I hope it brings you peace," I answered.

It should have been a proud moment, like I accomplished some great deed in service for the people of Falkreath. It didn't. No one said choosing justice was a simple decision—if this was justice at all. It was more like Hircine's game. The Jarl's satisfied smirk made it worse.

"A promise is a promise. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Falkreath. Congratulations. I grant you a personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify the guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now. Go rest and celebrate. Being a Thane is no small honor, as you know. I look forward to having you as a part of my court."

Becoming his Thane wasn't so much of an honor as it was being damned between him and Hircine.

***

It was evening by the time I woke up from my nap. I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling. The memories of the night before came flooding back to me. The gore, the sight of those hunters strewn over the grotto. Not just because of Sinding. My sullied armor at the corner of the room reminded me it hadn't just been a dream—it was real.

More questions and doubts gnawed at me. To the outside world, killing Sinding was the right thing to do. It brought honor to me and to the Companions. When I returned to Jorrvaskr, the others would be pleased to hear about my victory. What they wouldn't know was how I acted in the grotto, more like a beast than warrior with my uncontrolled rage. It shamed me and I felt unworthy of being a Companion.

As soon as I returned to the mead hall, I would let them know that I was no longer interested in joining. It pained me to think of all the work I put into my time at Jorrvaskr, but I couldn't continue with them in good faith. Hircine's curse tainted me—regardless of whether I was a shifter or not, the Daedric Prince promised he would haunt me at every step.

 _There's no sense in travelling back to Whiterun tonight_ , I concluded. I needed some distance from Jorrvasrk, and a distraction.

I exited my room and into the tavern, with some eager faces excited to praise me for my accomplishment. I grinned and bore it, but the relief settled in when I made it to the bar to drown my sorrows.

About two drinks in, the tavern's resident bard greeted me, offering to buy my next round. I wasn't one to turn down such a gracious offer, and I allowed his company for a bit. He wasn't bad looking—it was those full lips. _It's been a while, hasn't it?_ I noticed. A good fuck always did the trick.

"You've got lovely eyes," he remarked, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. _Why is it always my damn eyes? He's a bard. He's got to be more creative than this._

"Do I?" I asked, trying to quell my annoyance.

"You do. Perhaps one day, I'll write a song about you."

I gave him a polite smile, but the words grated on me like no other. _There is a song about me already, but if I hear it tonight, I will end up vomiting again._ The last thing I wanted was recognition of my "warrior's heart," or however the rest of the stupid song went. _Whatever is between his legs better be enough to compensate for his stupidity._

A man with dark hair approached the bard, offering him an apologetic smile. "Sorry to bother you, Delacourt, but Valga was looking for you. She said something about you owing her rent for the month, or some sort."

"Ah! Damn it! I thought I paid it. Thank you for letting me know, friend." Delacourt flashed me a charming grin. "I hope to see you later, my lady."

"Perhaps. Go tend to your business with Valga," I urged, and he was off to see the innkeeper.

The new man didn't leave, instead offering me a sweet grin. He had such a pleasant face, a stark contrast to the large scar on his left eye. _Whatever left that, it was quite a beast_ , I remarked.

"Valga doesn't need to see Delacourt, does she?" I asked.

The mischief glinted in his eyes. "It's true enough, if you'd like it to be. Can I keep you company?"

"By all means, take a seat. Perhaps you'll want to buy me a drink, seeing as you took away my source of free ale."

He snorted. "Another drink for the lady, Narri. On me. The lady deserves a hero's celebration for her bravery."

 _Is everyone going to bring up the fact that I killed Sinding?_ I grumbled. Narri tossed me some ale, which I gulped without a second thought. If this was the way the evening was going, I would need more than that to get through it.

The man's eyes turned curious. "I hope I didn't say anything to offend you."

"No offense taken. Not in the slightest," I lied through gritted teeth.

He frowned, which irritated me even more than the praise. "Apologies. I've been watching you since I entered the tavern, and for someone who's done something heroic, you don't seem happy."

"Not all heroic deeds are happy ones."

How could I be happy? I broke my vow to the Divines by killing Sinding after I offered to help him, and earned Hircine's wrath. Even worse, the godsdamned Jarl made me a Thane. All the gold in the world couldn't make up for how much I hated that man, yet I was his Thane! What about my entire situation inspired joy?

I didn't say any of that, instead choosing to ask, "What business is it of yours anyways?"

"It isn't, and I understand you don't want me meddling, but…"

"But what?"

"I have some advice, if you want it."

"Unlikely, but have at it."

 _This I've got to hear_ , I thought, amused. What advice did the man think he had to offer?

"I understand you may regret killing the manbeast, but you helped that little girl's family. I won't judge you if that's how you're feeling," he said.

For the first time since the conversation began, I took a closer look at the man who joined me. He spoke with sincerity, and he had an honest expression. I realized who he reminded me of the moment—Hadvar. At least he resembled Hadvar, but not quite—this man's hair and eyes were a darker brown, and his features were softer, despite the scar. That scar—it made him striking. I liked it.

"This next round is on me, Narri. The Jarl paid me enough gold to last me a while, so I should make good use of it. I never caught your name, stranger," I said.

"Krisvar. Anyaie, isn't it? Did I say that right?"

I smirked. "I've heard every variation. Annie-ay, Awe-nee-ay, Any-yay. Take your pick."

Krisvar laughed. "Don't blame me when I call you all three."

"Oh I wouldn't. Not when you'll be paying for the round after this one."

"Tell me what happened with the shifter and I'll pay for as many rounds as you want."

I gave him a watered-down version, explaining how the Jarl tasked me with killing him, and that I tried giving him a chance, but I took his life away. It was a good rehearsal for what I would tell anyone else if they asked, and it didn't include Hircine. He listened to me, courteous as a gentleman. When I finished, Krisvar gave me his insight.

"That's what's hard with shifters," Krisvar said, motioning to Narri for another round of ale. "It's thinking they were humans once too. It's hard to reconcile that with the beast that lurks within them."

I sighed. "It would have been easier if he was just a monster. This shifter had a hard time controlling his transformations. He didn't mean to kill the little girl."

"Maybe he didn't, but that's the problem with the beast blood. It chips away at the shifter's humanity, and the beast emerges. He must have been early in the process to still be able to feel that regret."

"Are you telling me he was doomed?"

He gave me a sad nod. "It's inevitable. Those afflicted by Hircine believe they have control over the disease, but it consumes them. The werewolf would have succumbed to his urges, eventually. You took him out of his misery. I'm sure his soul thanks you for it."

"I guess so," I said, but those words didn't soothe my conscience.

Krisvar tilted my chin to face him, his touch as gentle as a lover's.

"Don't doubt yourself," he urged. "A woman like you wouldn't have killed unless it was the right thing to do."

"You barely know me," I protested, my heart hammering against my chest.

"I think I know enough," he purred, stroking my lower lip with his thumb. "And I know how shifters work too."

"So is that what happened?" I asked, tracing a finger down his scar.

He nodded. "You're troubled enough with your shifter. You don't need to hear about mine."

But I wanted to know. It might have been the ale getting to my head, or the stress from the last day catching up to me, but I wanted to hear it from him. I needed to feel better about my decision. I wanted a connection to someone who understood, even if that was for one night.

"Tell me," I whispered, enjoying the way his hands stroked my face.

Krisvar leaned back, pulling his hand away from my face.

"It's simple. The shifter lashed out at me and gave me this scar," Krisvar explained.

 _There has to be more_ , I thought. Questions sprang into my mind, things that my parents drilled into me. I stroked his scar, and he leaned into my touch. _Sanies Lupinus_ , otherwise known as the werewolf disease, took root within three days after a werewolf scratched the victim. He mustn't have been able to heal the scratch when he received it, but why? Wouldn't anyone's first instinct be going to a healer?

"You didn't contract the disease, did you?" I asked.

"Divines no, but I almost did. I… I didn't know who to turn to," he admitted.

"I'm not native to Skyrim, but I assumed that any healer would have done the trick. It can't be that uncommon."

Krisvar hesitated. I didn't want him closing up on me, not after everything he knew about me. I wanted to know what made this man so willing to view the best in me after I killed in cold blood.

"I won't judge you either," I assured him. "Don't you think it's the least I can do?"

Krisvar went quiet, reflecting on what I told him. When his eyes finally met mine, they looked torn, as if debating whether or not to tell me. I didn't want to force the matter. I understood his reluctance better than anyone at the tavern.

"You don't have to listen, but I see you're eager to know. The story isn't that simple," he confessed, taking a pause, his eyes scanning around the room. _Is he afraid someone will listen?_ I wondered. When he was satisfied, he continued. "I knew the shifter, and he has a reputation in Skyrim. No one would have believed me if I explained what happened."

"Did he threaten you?" I asked.

"No, he didn't, but there were others who did." Krisvar laughed, and it was a humorless, bitter sound. "They didn't realize that no one would have believed me, anyway. I was lucky to get a healing potion to cure the disease, but by the time I could find someone to heal the scar, it was too late. I lost my home, and my livelihood because of them. It took me a long time to recover."

People with power could be so cruel. All it took was a simple threat to keep someone in line, or have them lose everything. Whoever the shifter was, and whoever protected them, were powerful. A part of me wanted to ask who attacked Krisvar. The monster didn't deserve protection, not if he had others who were happy to do his dirty work for him. That shifter deserved justice. But one look at Krisvar's face told me it was wiser not to prod anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," he said, cupping my cheek in his palm. "You did nothing wrong, not by asking me about my scar or killing the shifter. They're all the same, Anyaie. I don't want you to forget that. Enough about manbeasts. I would rather hear about your other adventures. A woman like you has to have at least a couple of good stories."

"I think we have better uses of our time," I said, smirking.

Krisvar flashed me a wicked grin. "I like the way you think."

"You'll like a lot more than that after tonight."

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as we made our way to his room. _It has been a long time, hasn't it? The last time I did this was… was it with Hadvar in Solitude?_ I wondered, and I heard Krisvar close the door. He came from behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist. His hardness pressed into me as he kissed the crook of my neck.

"Tonight, we can both forget," he murmured, nipping at my earlobe, a shiver running down my spine. "No shifters. No regrets. Nothing. We're enjoying ourselves."

No Hircine, no Companions, nothing but Krisvar and I. It sounded so alluring. Then again, so was he. I grinned, grinding against his erection. Krisvar let out a soft moan, and that was all it took for my nerves to shatter.

He slipped a hand in my breeches, his fingers teasing me. I closed my eyes, leaning against his chest, reveling in his touch. He continued kissing my neck, slipping a finger, then two, into my entrance, stretching me. A moan slipped past my lips as he pumped his fingers in and out, the friction making my toes curl.

"You're gonna make me come," I warned, my voice hitching in my throat as he curled his fingers inside of me.

"That's the goal," he said, hitting my sweet spot. The heat built inside of me, and I wasn't able to sustain it much longer. My release came, flooding through me, stronger than anything I'd experienced in a while.

I turned to face Krisvar, who grinned at me, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking while gazing at me with lustful eyes.

"You taste so good," he said, as his eyes ran along my body, "but those clothes are a problem."

We stripped out of our clothes and smalls, flinging them into unknown corners, making it to his bed. I smirked at him, appreciating the sight before me, running my hands up and down his chest. He was toned, with scars running all over his body from what I assumed were claws; no weapon made gashes like that. It gave him character, and I liked it. If I stopped to think, I would have questioned it more, but my lust-addled mind didn't care. I was eager for him to take me, my wetness dripping down my thighs.

I kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip, feeling his hardness press against my entrance.

"Not yet. I want to take you in my mouth," I told him, straddling his face. "But I don't enjoy getting shortchanged."

Krisvar smirked. "I'd do no such thing. I would be a fool to argue with an attractive woman who wants to suck my cock."

I turned around, rewarding him a fine view of my sex and my ass. _I might not have the best tits in Tamriel, but I'd be damned if my ass isn't a fine sight._ Krisvar's ran a finger down my mounds, slipping his finger into my cunt. _Fuck the man knows how to work his fingers_ , I thought. He replaced his finger with his tongue, lapping at my folds and savoring me, while I took his leaking cock into my mouth. Between the heat building up in my groin and sucking on his arousal, he pushed me over the edge a second time, and I came into his mouth.

"I need to be inside of you," he panted, his voice thick with need.

I stopped, turned to face him, and flashed him a coy grin. "I would be a fool to argue with an attractive man who wants to fuck me."

Krisvar flipped me onto my back as if I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around him, thrusting my hips up to his. He laughed, as if chiding me for my impatience, but wasted no time entering me. Our lips found each other's again for a bruising kiss as he hilted me, and all else ceased to matter. I lost myself in his rough and desperate thrusts, clenching around his manhood. All I cared about was the bliss of being fucked, and Krisvar's mouth nipping at the sensitive skin on my neck.

Krisvar pulled out and stroked his cock over me, spilling his warm seed all over my stomach. We stared at each other, trying to catch our breaths, until he got up and searched for a cloth.

"Fucking and cleaning service?" I asked as he wiped my stomach, pressing kisses along the flesh as he went.

"I figured if you'd fucked Delacourt, you would have gotten a ballad. I can't sing, but I can clean." Now it was his turn to flash me a coy grin. "And we can make another mess."

And make a mess we did, several times until we were both too tired to do anything else.

***

I slept in my own room that night, but joined Krisvar once more in the morning. We shared a quick kiss, which was nice. Krisvar was good company, and just as good a fuck. If we crossed paths again, I wouldn't hesitate for a repeat.

"I like that armor," I said, trailing a finger through his gleaning silver breastplate. It made him look like a knight, and even more handsome.

"Yeah? Well, you know, you could wear it too, if you wanted to join us," he said.

"Us?" I asked, confused.

He nodded his head "yes." An icy wave washed over me. Something wasn't right. Those scars. The offer. He took an interest in me because of Sinding, and I hadn't questioned it. Wait—why was he so interested in what happened with the dead shifter anyhow? _Shit_ , I swore, realizing I was too open, too vulnerable with him. Krisvar didn't just seek me because he wanted sex. He wanted information, and though I suppressed information, he still knew more than I cared for him to know.

My instinct was to shove him across the room and interrogate him, but I had little more than my suspicions to go off of. _Be careful about how you handle this. You might be strong, but he can still overpower you._

"Who are you, Krisvar?" I asked, keeping my tone casual.

He grinned. What seemed so sweet and sincere moments ago didn't seem that way now. I was played, but I didn't understand how. All I understood was that I was a fool, but I didn't understand to what extent.

"I'm someone who's had enough run in with werewolves to understand the danger they are to society. And I think you know it too, Anyaie," he said. "There's more than just me. There's many of us. We could use someone like you. You'd be a good fit."

An alarm bell blared in my head. _Play it cool._ I put on a charming smile and played on, acting like nothing was wrong. "Where might I find you?"

"Driftshade Refuge. Once you're done in Whiterun, you can join me," he suggested.

I grinned and said, "I'm a busy woman, but I'm sure I can make some time for you."

Those words satisfied him, and we parted ways. The anxiety coiled in my gut. Something was wrong. I needed to go back to Whiterun. As much as I wanted to avoid it, everything inside of me screamed at me to return home.

***

 _Fredas, 16th_ _day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

The storm raged on as we drew near Whiterun. The malaise never waned as Vilkas and I rode closer and closer to the city walls. All the horrible revelations hit me one by one. If something happened at Jorrvaskr, it fell on my head. All of this was because I was complacent _. I neglected my duty as Dragonborn, and now I've failed as Harbinger_ , I thought _._ Vilkas was wrong—Kodlak would never be proud of me _._

As soon as we got to Whiterun Stables, a guard ran towards us at full speed, shouting, "Harbinger! Companion! We've been looking for you. Something's wrong at Jorrvaskr."

My mind shut off, not wanting to think of the possibilities, as I sprung off my horse. Vilkas called my name, chasing after me as I ran towards the gates of Whiterun. _Don't let it be anything with Hircine._ All the names of the Divines ran through my head, as if my prayer could prevent anything from happening. The guards offered help as I entered the gates, but I brushed them off. There would be time for apologies later. For now, I needed to get back to the mead hall.

I froze witnessing the scene at Jorrvaskr. Farkas held someone in a deadlock, his grip merciless. Athis laid on the steps of Jorrvaskr, clutching onto his side while Danica Pure-Spring, the local healer, tended to him. The Whiterun guards surrounded Jorrvaskr, their weapons drawn.

"Unhand them, Farkas," I ordered, and he dropped the person in front of me. A man by the looks of it, though it was difficult to tell with the hood.

"Speak, coward," I demanded.

"I have nothing to say to you. I delivered a message."

I was about to clobber the man until Vilkas said, "The door, Anyaie. Look at the door."

A bloody hide was nailed to the front door, not just any animal either. Judging by the fur and the size, it belonged to a wolf. Vilkas froze next to it as he recognized what it was. On the hide was a small paper. I unfurled it, trying not to let the others see how my hands shook as I read its contents. Scrawled in messy handwriting were the words that made all my nightmares come to life: _Your pack's hide is next_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Comments and thoughts are always appreciated, and so is telling me how much you (dis)like Krisvar.


	16. Revelations

_Loredas, 5th_ _day of Sun's Height, 4E 202_

My chest tightened as I entered Whiterun, alert to every move and noise around me. The market bustled with the usual vendors selling their wares to eager customers. Some familiar faces waved to me as I passed by. I tried returning their greetings, all while my heart raced. I didn't deserve their friendliness and openness. _They wouldn't be so kind if they witnessed what happened in Falkreath._

My mind wandered to thoughts of home. I pictured myself staying with my girls, pretending what happened with Sinding didn't exist, and that Krisvar was a drunken dream. I pushed onwards, convincing myself that I needed to tell the Companions I quit. As soon as I got home, I would retire my armor. I couldn't become the monster Hircine said I was.

The terrible recollection of Hircine's words was enough to make me lose my nerve before I could make it up the steps of the Wind District. I returned to Breezehome, bolting the door behind me. I called out to Lydia and the girls, but no one was home. _Good, it's better I'm alone for this._

I went upstairs and opened the chest at the foot of my bed, placing all of my armor inside of it. _Tomorrow, I will sell all of my weapons, along with the bow. I have no need for such things anymore_. For how much I pushed to prove myself to the Companions, and for all the effort I put into honing my skills, it was a shame. My father's words came back to me—we don't choose what we are, but I was choosing not to be a monster. Shame or not, this is what it was to be.

I pulled the Ring of Hircine out of my satchel, contemplating how to rid myself of it. As far as my knowledge on enchanting went, there was no way to successfully disenchant a Daedric artefact. The only being that could remove an enchantment was the Daedra that blessed it. Perhaps a Vigilant of Stendarr would know what to do with a ring like this one. _If I do that, will I provoke Hircine's wrath even further?_ I questioned, still gazing at the ring. My addled mind couldn't think of any adequate solution. I shoved the cursed ring into the chest along with my armor, and locked it, hiding the key where the girls couldn't find it.

Satisfied, I returned downstairs and poured myself some wine. My father was right about me all along. These past months, I assumed I could change my fate and break free of the expectations he set for me long ago. Skyrim was my chance to not become like him; he was broken in spirit, with no light left inside of him. I swore I wouldn't become like him—such delusions! For my arrogance, the gods punished me. I wasn't a capable warrior. I was a healer who fooled herself into believing she could become a warrior.

_But Hircine picked you because you were capable_ , a tiny voice reminded me. It didn't matter, capable or not. If I continued along the same path, I would shed more blood and prove the Daedric prince right.

Someone knocked at the door. I stiffened and held onto my drink. Another knock, this time more urgent. _Don't be deceived._ _What if it's whoever Krisvar is working for?_ The panic bubbled. I reached for my blade, but remembered I had none. _Damn it, I should always carry a dagger on me,_ I cursed.

"Open up, new blood."

Vilkas. The wineglass shook in my hands. The Companions discovered what happened with Sinding. The more I reflected on my actions, the worse I felt. If I had to go in front of the Companions and explain what happened, I would unravel. No, I couldn't let him in. I willed myself to stay quiet, hoping that would be enough to drive him away.

"We know you're in there," Vilkas insisted.

I heard Vilkas' sigh of annoyance when I said nothing. Someone else knocked, gentler than before.

"Anyaie, it's me. Can you please come out?" Farkas asked.

My resolve wavered, if only a bit. I didn't want to deny Farkas after everything he did for me. Then again, this was no small request. My encounter with Hircine and the shifter would disappoint him. If it had been him, he would have done the noble thing, whatever that was. He was good in that regard, and the last thing I needed was to see his disappointment as I recounted my night in Falkreath. So, I remained silent.

"This won't take long. If you want to go back home after, you can. Just come talk to us first. Please," Farkas added.

_What if it isn't about Sinding at all and I'm being paranoid?_ I wondered. Farkas wasn't a liar, and Vilkas would have been forceful regardless of the circumstances.

"Kodlak wants to see you," Farkas added.

That did me in. I couldn't deny the Harbinger.

The sight of the twins greeted me as I opened the door. Vilkas had his customary scowl, and Farkas frowned. I faced them, unsure of what to say or how to react to their presence. I looked to Farkas for reassurance, but didn't find any.

"Follow us," Vilkas ordered, and I did as I was told.

We arrived at Jorrvaskr. The mead hall was empty, and I followed the twins to the living quarters.

_The Circle wants to see me_ , I concluded. My instinct proved right as I entered Kodlak's quarters and saw Aela, Skjor, and Kodak. Farkas closed the door as soon as we entered, Vilkas taking his place next to his shield-siblings. That was when it hit me—no one looked pleased. I imagined that I would have to contend with them telling me I did an honorable thing killing the shifter and bringing closure to the girl's family. Their stony expressions were more unnerving than their praise.

"We have a lot to discuss, my girl," Kodlak said.

_Keep your voice steady. Stand tall. You don't have to be proud of your actions, but you will not appear weak_ , I thought, checking all my tics and habits.

"It appears we do. I'll take it you summoned me because of the shifter in Falkreath," I said.

"Indeed. The matter of the shifter raised questions about your loyalties."

"My loyalties? How so?"

"Are you a Silver Hand, or are you not?" Skjor demanded.

"A Silver Hand?"

"Someone who hunts those with the beast blood," Kodlak answered, shooting Skjor a sharp look. "Are you a part of them?"

"No, I've never even heard of them," I answered.

"Yet you took a shifter's life," Aela remarked.

She and Skjor stood on defense, ready to spring into action if I made a wrong move. My shoulders tensed, and I had the urge to reach for a weapon, then remembered I was unarmed. I would be stupid to take down a group of Skyrim's finest warriors unarmed, but I wouldn't hesitate to defend myself. Before it came to that, I needed to diffuse the situation.

"I didn't intend on it," I answered, and turned to Vilkas. "Siddgeir wanted me to deal with bandits, then asked me to take care of the shifter."

Vilkas nodded. "So we were told. The Jarl sent a letter expressing his gratitude. However true that is, it doesn't change the fact that you have a shifter's blood on your hands."

This wasn't how I expected the conversation to happen. No, it was worse than what I imagined. I didn't think the Companions would be sympathetic towards the shifter. In fact, I thought they would be pleased that I followed the Jarl's orders and avenged the little girl. It was strange, yet somehow, their anger made it more unbearable. I still needed to defend myself. The shame and panic threatened to overtake me as the memories of a few nights ago resurfaced.

"Let's get something clear. I didn't want to take his life away," I snarled, directing my anger at Vilkas.

"Why did you do it?" Skjor asked.

"I didn't have much of a choice!" I answered, losing my patience. "I'm not some werewolf hunter like you all seem to think I am. The Jarl asked for my help with the matter. He said he would double my gold…"

"Oh, so the money motivated you?" Vilkas cut in.

"Yes! For the Harbinger! That gold is worth at least two Daedra hearts. If that potion works, and I'm right, it means I have the cost of the next batch covered."

Aela relaxed a bit, her posture not quite as aggressive as it was before. "You've been good to us, Dragonborn, and I don't want to believe that you're not trustworthy. That said, this is a convenient defense."

"Aela's right. We can't afford to not be suspicious, and this is suspicious," Skjor agreed.

"You're being too kind," Vilkas snapped. "I never trusted you, whelp. I wanted to trust you. I tried and…"

"There's no reason not to, Vilkas! For shit's sake, did everything we go through not teach you anything?" I demanded.

"I know how the evidence looks, son, but you haven't given her a fair chance. In fact, we should all be giving her a fair chance," Kodlak said.

"I can't agree with that, Harbinger. We experienced an outsider trying to destroy us once, and I won't stand for it happening again," Vilkas said.

I growled at him. Between the annoyance, the stress, everything clawed at me. "I have no intentions of doing any of that! Godsdamn it! I don't understand what has you all so suspicious about the shifter and my association to these… Silver Hands, or whatever they're called, but I didn't want to kill him! I even spared him, at first! And then…"

My voice trailed off. Hircine's presence, Bleak Falls Barrow, all that blood in the grotto meshed into one flashback. The memory of Hircine's laughter rang in my ears. The pungent smell of blood and dead wolf came back to me, and intensified as my trembling hands skinned Sinding's corpse. _Stop trembling. Don't be weak_ , I reminded myself, trying to steady my breathing.

"Take it easy on her," Farkas warned.

"You're one to talk. We wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for you," Skjor snapped.

Vilkas lunged forward, getting in Skjor's face. "This again? How many times does he have to ask for your forgiveness?"

"Vil. It's okay," Farkas reassured him. The hurt and guilt on his face spoke the opposite. Normally, I would have cared more. I should have stuck up for him, but the memories of those hunters' corpses strewn like bloody rag dolls still tormented me.

Skjor pushed Vilkas back and said, "Stop trying to defend your brother. He knows it's his fault."

"Skjor, enough. You shouldn't bring up old wounds while dealing with new ones. Such things tear shield-siblings apart," Kodlak warned.

"And so did his actions," Aela said.

"It was an accident!" Vilkas exclaimed.

"Well-intentioned, accidental, or not, it doesn't change how much blood was shed, and the shield-siblings we lost."

"But dragging the past doesn't change the present."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk," Aela scolded, arms crossed. "Whatever the new blood is or isn't, you've let old grudges cloud your view of her from the beginning."

_What is going on? What did Farkas do?_ I wondered.

"Enough! All of you! Our past is not the new blood's concern, but our future is." Kodlak said.

It soothed the Circle's rage, and the four of them became silent after muttering half-hearted words of apology.

Kodlak turned his focus to me again. "Your actions trouble you. Why is that?"

I stayed silent and shook my head. It was too shameful. The watered-down version I gave Krisvar wouldn't suffice. They would see right through it. _Did Krisvar even believe it?_ _Did he play along just to use me?_ The shame doubled, tripled. How many times was I played within these last few days?

Farkas stood next to me. _He's not on my side. He will stand with his shield-siblings and his brother over me_. His touch was gentle, just a small brush on my arm. It was comforting in a way I hadn't expected.

"You need to answer Kodlak," he urged.

"I can't say it," I said.

"No one's going to hurt you."

"How do you…"

"I do because I'm here." When I didn't answer, he added. "If you say you didn't want to kill him, I believe you. Whatever made you do it must have been bad."

Farkas was the one who said I needed to be open and honest. There was no future with the Companions for me regardless of what happened, but I wouldn't let Farkas down. I gathered my courage, swallowed the lump in my throat, and explained what happened with Sinding.

"The shifter… he didn't want to kill the little girl. He stole a ring from Hircine's hunters that he thought would help control his transformations. Hircine cursed the ring, and he had no control over his beast form. It was stronger than him. I tried interceding with Hircine, but the Daedric Prince wouldn't have it and wanted his hide." I looked to Farkas, who nodded, giving me the encouragement I needed to continue. "I didn't want to, but the shifter, Sinding, lost control. It was too much to witness. I did what the Lord of the Hunt asked, but I hated every moment. I even killed Hircine's other hunters for it."

"Did Hircine punish you for that?" Kodlak asked.

"No. He cursed me for refusing his blessing. He damned my pack and said that the beast blood would torment me at every step. I… I'm not a shifter, and I have no pack, but still, it's…" my voice faltered. I had no pack, and I had no intentions on taking the blood after I saw what it did to Sinding. But Hircine would find a way, even if that meant taking away what was dearest to me.

"You've said enough. As far as I can tell, she's no Silver Hand. Besides, no Silver Hand would do what she's done for Kodlak," Farkas insisted.

"You're right and… w-wait… why do you all care so much about what I did with the shifter?" I asked, my voice so small.

The Companions didn't answer me, but the answer was obvious. A nervous laughter tore right through me. _This is a joke. This has to be a joke. By the Nine please make it a joke_ , I prayed. No one said anything, an uncomfortable silence looming between the Circle and I. _No, not them. It can't be._ But I knew it, I knew it the same way that I knew Hircine wasn't lying about the bow. It hit me harder than a punch to the gut and almost winded me as much.

"You're not… you're not…" I stammered.

"We are shifters," Kodlak confirmed.

"Master!" Vilkas exclaimed.

"There's no sense in denying the truth to her, my boy," Kodlak said.

My vision darkened as I hit the floor.

***

I was in Kodlak's bed when I woke up. The world was a blur, becoming clearer as I rubbed my eyes. My head didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. In fact, it didn't hurt at all, surprising considering I must have hit the floor after… shit… My head throbbed after all at the memory of Kodlak confirming the Companions were shifters.

_So they concluded that if I killed Sinding, I would kill them too._ It seemed laughable when I had such limited experience with manbeasts, but nothing about this situation made me want to laugh. Far from it. I tried reconciling the image of noble warriors with the bloodthirsty beasts. It was impossible. They were capable of what Sinding did, maybe even worse.

My fears turned to anger. Anyone following in Hircine's footsteps was not worthy of the honor of being a Companion. It infuriated me that they were all pretending to be honorable warriors when they weren't. Especially. Kodlak. How could he allow the blood? Were the other Companions aware? Wait, that meant Skjor and Aela, all those missions together… were they hunting? Farkas… gods… with his strength… in beast form… and Vilkas—Vilkas! That damned hypocrite! And to think I tried proving myself as noble when they were liars all along!

Farkas came into the room with hesitance, like he was approaching a feral animal. His meekness didn't fool me. No manbeast was docile. Sinding, the man, might have been a timid thing, but a warrior with years of training, born and raised at Jorrvaskr, was not. _He's not on my side. He was never on my side._

"Anyaie," he whispered, laying a hand on my arm. I slapped his touch away, and he balked.

"Get away from me," I hissed.

"Let me talk," he pleaded.

"No! I don't want to hear anything anymore!"

"Anyaie…"

"Leave me _alone_!" I shouted, and Kodlak's room shook, a couple of baubles falling off the shelves.

Vilkas flung Kodlak's room door open, and my body trembled with rage.

"And you!" I shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Vilkas. "For months you've gone on telling me that hiding something made me dishonest! And all this time, all this damned time, _you_ were hiding something too! That night, in the yard… by the Nine…"

"New blood…" he started.

"Don't you dare fucking 'new blood' me! My name is Anyaie! You're a godsdamn hypocrite, Vilkas!"

Kodlak entered, frowning at the sight of me clutching onto his sheets, my knuckles turning white. It was so hard to picture this man, who I thought was honorable, as one of Hircine's. I didn't want to direct my anger at him, and his illness lingered at the back of my mind, yet the betrayal still stung.

"Let me talk to her," Kodlak told the twins.

"Harbinger," Farkas protested.

Kodlak laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "Leave her be."

Vilkas didn't need to be told twice, yet Farkas still gave me one regretful parting glance. His well-being didn't concern me anymore. He told me not to hide myself, but he hid a part of himself too. So many pieces of information, things I noticed, wove themselves into a complete picture. It burned me. I cared about this man. Oblivion, I trusted him, and he shattered that. This was worse than anything I ever did to them.

"Do the others know?" I demanded, as Kodlak sat at the corner of his room.

"No. It's just the Circle."

"I don't understand. Why would you—wait—how long? When? Or just… why?"

"Nothing I will say will make this easier or better. Finding out about the blood is hard in the best circumstances. With everything that's happened in the last few days, I can't grasp how much more difficult it is."

His sympathy made everything worse. A part of me wanted nothing more than for him to explode, threatening me with my life if I dared expose him or the Companions. It would have made everything simpler—but no. Kodlak sat serene as ever, still the soothing presence he ever was. It didn't quell my rage at their duplicity, although it quieted me. A part of me wanted to believe that there was a part of them that wasn't like Sinding. I didn't think I could.

"You've seen a lot, my girl. I understand you might not want to continue with the Companions. Before you make that choice, think it over."

"I don't… I can't continue with the Companions. Even if I wanted to… even if I was okay… my pack…how?" I stammered.

"I can't answer those questions for you. I want you to take the space that you need. When you're ready, you will give us your answer."

"How are you so sure I'll be quiet? Or that I won't join the Silver Hand?"

Kodlak sighed. "I'm not."

"And you'll let me walk out of Jorrvaskr? Unharmed?"

"I may have the blood, but I'm no monster."

I nodded, numb. Sinding didn't seem like a monster either, yet he killed that little girl and slaughtered Hircine's hunters. But then, I murdered those hunters too. I was unsure of what else to say, and I didn't have it in me to answer my own questions. The fatigue washed over me, and I felt it in my bones. _I need to get away from here and be alone. I can't handle anymore today_.

"Go back home and rest. And thank you for everything, Anyaie. You've done a lot for me and I will never forget that."

I don't remember what I answered, though I was torn as I walked out of the mead hall. This man had given me a chance when few others would. I wouldn't forget his kindness either. It didn't change that he was a shifter, and it ate away at me. Each step to Breezehome was like I was in a daze as I realized my world transformed into a waking nightmare.

***

_Fredas, 16th_ _day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

"Just walk me through the details once more," I said.

Athis laid on his bed, Danica tending to his wound. The guards alerted her in time to Athis' injury, so the Dunmer's injury wouldn't have any lasting consequences—not that it reassured me. The guilt tiptoed around my thoughts as my shield-brother laid back in bed, his red eyes on the healed flesh. No one should have injured Athis, yet it happened. It raised more questions and made old worries resurface, worries that I thought I took care of four months ago.

Danica glared at me, her hazel eyes burning with annoyance. "You of all people should know that he shouldn't exert himself right now."

"There will be plenty of time to rest, priestess," Athis assured her, flashing her a kind smile. "The Harbinger is troubled by these events, and so am I. She is only doing her duty."

The priestess of Kynareth's expression softened, and she sighed. "Very well, but make it quick. Come see me when you're done, Harbinger."

Danica exited the room, giving me the chance to talk to Athis alone.

"If any of this exhausts you, tell me. There is no shame if you do. Your body is healing," I told him.

"I'll be fine," Athis promised, waving his hand to dismiss my concerns. "What would you like to hear again?"

"You were on your way back from a job, right?" I asked.

Athis nodded. "Exactly. When I came back to Whiterun, it was like there were eyes watching me. I saw nothing. I should have cast a spell to detect life, but I brushed it off, chalking it up to fatigue. By the time I made it to Jorrvaskr, the bastard appeared, drew his blade, and lodged it into my side. I never noticed it," Athis confessed, shaking his head in shame.

"Don't be hard on yourself, brother. This man was well-armed, and he was stealthy. We've all had foes catch us unaware."

"But we shouldn't. We're Companions. We're trained for this," he insisted, while yawning.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. "I will let you get your rest."

Athis flashed me a grateful smile, his eyes growing heavy with sleep. "I just need a quick nap."

"Take all the time you need," I said, his eyes already closing by the time I finished speaking.

Danica waited for me outside of the whelp quarters. In a rare moment of quietude, she leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed. The woman never caught a break. With the ongoing war, she always had her hands busy. I didn't envy her. Healing was taxing, and it took its toll on the healer if they weren't careful.

"Priestess," I called out, and her eyes snapped open.

"Forgive me, Harbinger," she said, her cheeks turning red. "It's been a long day."

"Don't apologize. I see your efforts, and I appreciate you tending to my shield-brother. I'll take over from here. Is there anything you want to disclose before I take over?"

"Nothing more than the usual. I'll come to check in on him tomorrow, for good measure," she said.

"I don't think that's necessary. You have many others that need your help, and…"

"I insist."

I found it odd because the wound shouldn't warrant further investigation. She closed the skin, leaving little more than a faint scar. The hooded figure's dagger didn't go deep enough for it to cause damage to any internal organs either. _Huh, I'm rustier at healing than I remember_ , I conceded, not quite believing it after how much effort I put into healing Vilkas. Still, if Danica wanted to be cautious, there was no reason to argue with her.

"Very well. Come again tomorrow."

Before Danica left, she had one other thing to add. "Your shield-brother was lucky the man was sloppy. The blade didn't go deep enough to hit his lung. I can't fathom who would harbor such a grudge against the Companions, but I pray they are dealt with."

_Sloppy, or sending a message?_ I wondered, the question following me as I joined the Circle in my quarters. How strange that Kodlak once summoned me here to discuss the matter of the blood. His quarters were my own now, and I was doing the same. I never imagined I would have to do this after I ended the cycle. It was foolish of me to assume that I resolved the matter—no, it wasn't only foolish. It was lazy.

Three anxious faces greeted me as I entered the room, not that any of them would admit it. If I wasn't close to Aela and the twins, I would never have been able to tell. I was just as sure they saw the discomfort play out on my face, and my uncertainty at how to address the matter. Not for the first time since I became Harbinger, I wished Kodlak were there. He always had the right words to guide us while setting us straight.

"It seems trouble has fallen on our doorstep once more," I said, feeling the words were too inadequate to capture the nervous energy in the room.

"Silver Hand?" Farkas asked.

"Not possible. We took care of them—mostly," Vilkas answered.

"Mostly? You said you wiped them all out. Now you mean to tell me you didn't consider checking if any strayed off?" Aela asked, crossing her arms.

The memories of Driftshade Refuge resurfaced. Vilkas' lips tightened, and I figured he was remembering the same thing I was. All we disclosed to Farkas and Aela was that we wiped out the Silver Hand. We spared them the details, deciding that silence was better than a recollection of the blood we spilled that day. I shook my head, as if it would help shake the memories away.

"I didn't think of it. My mind was clouded with grief, and my primary concern was retrieving what was ours," I lied.

Aela flashed me a disbelieving look. I agreed that not checking for survivors was sloppy, but it wasn't a priority.

I then added, "It might not even be the Silver Hand. Vilkas and I saw a white stag on our way back to Rorikstead."

"Hircine?" Aela asked.

"It can't be anything else," I admitted.

"Your curse?" Farkas asked, knitting his brows together. "I don't get it. I thought we settled that."

"If I had to guess, I broke one curse, but not the other."

All color drained from Vilkas' face as the reality of the stag's appearance settled in. He balled his trembling fist. He must have been in as much of a hurry as I was to get back to Jorrvaskr, ignoring the implications and—wait, that meant he didn't hear Hircine's words.

"Are you sure?" Vilkas demanded, almost as though he were pleading for it not to be real.

"More than sure. The stag spoke to me, telling me that my pack and I couldn't escape his grasp."

"You mean all that work was for nothing?" Farkas asked.

The dejection in his voice broke my heart. For the longest time, Farkas carried so many burdens on his shoulder. That night I cured him of the blood marked a new beginning for him. It was the first time his smile was bright after the pain we endured. Within moments, I extinguished that.

"Not all for nothing. We honored Kodlak's last wish. If this is truly Hircine, and not the Silver Hand, we need to interrogate the attacker. They might have some answers for us. Aela, come with me. You two, stay behind. This shouldn't take us too long," I said.

Farkas and Vilkas nodded in assent, and Aela and I made our way to Whiterun's jail. My eyes scanned the Wind District. Everything was as it should be, despite the earlier incident. The unease trailed me wherever I went. _What if this is a set up and someone is watching us right now?_ The paranoia was all too familiar, and I hoped I would never have to experience it again.

Once we made it to the jail, the guards led us to the attacker. Aela and I approached the man's cell. There was nothing extraordinary about him; he was a typical Nord with blonde hair and pale eyes. The guards stripped him of his armor, leaving him with the plain, tattered clothes not dissimilar to what I once wore in Helgen. Aela let out a soft growl, and her eyes flashed gold before shifting to their usual green.

"You're a child of Hircine," Aela growled.

"Aren't we all?" the man asked.

"Who sent you?" I demanded.

The man remained silent. I snarled, reaching through the bars to hold him by the neck. It wasn't the time to trifle with me, or my shield-siblings. He smirked, not fighting back at first. I squeezed my hand around his neck, and he choked.

"I asked you a question and I expect an answer," I demanded.

"You… don't… scare… me…"

My hands tightening around his neck as I dragged him closer to the bars. "I'll skin your hide right off your back, shifter. I've done it once and I can do it again. So I'll ask once more: who sent you?"

"Hircine," he choked, turning a painful shade of blue. "He wants… your blood…"

I should have pressed for more information, but what he revealed was enough; he wasn't a Silver Hand and Hircine still had his claws in me. The Daedric Prince was using other shifters to wreak havoc on my shield-siblings and me.

I released my grasp on the prisoner, and he gasped for air.

Aela took over the interrogation. "And? Do you commune with Hircine?"

"I don't have that honor. Only she does."

"She?"

"Our leader. Perhaps you remember her, Harbinger."

He wasn't making any sense. _A female werewolf? Sinding is the only other shifter I've met apart from the Companions._ The problem was that I sensed no lie. He was sure of himself and his knowledge, and there was no bluff. Aela shot me a questioning glance, waiting for me to clarify. She guessed he was telling the truth too.

I didn't look at her, nodding at the shifter. Confusion would only make me seem weak and afraid. Whoever this unknown female shifter was, she thought we met. In any other situation, I would assume this was a misunderstanding, but the man said too many things that lined up with the Daedric Prince's curse. More than that, I felt it in my gut. This prisoner was no madman—he had a purpose.

"You've spoken truthfully, shifter. For that, I will spare your life,"

"How generous," he sneered.

Aela's dagger shot out of nowhere, and I restrained her grip. "My shield-sister and I want nothing more than to skin you alive, but we will refrain. I'll let you walk out of Whiterun with your hide. In return, you will send your leader a message."

"Fine. What is it?" he spat.

"She won't have our blood. Neither will Hircine."

The man nodded. I didn't like letting him go, but I needed this woman—whoever she was—to know that my shield-siblings and I wouldn't go without a fight.

The man put his armor back on. It was amongst the finest armor I had ever seen. It was intricate, yet still practical. It was black like ebony—no that couldn't be it. Unless it was and the armor was enchanted so that it muffled all sound. I was impressed and terrified. This female shifter could amass a group of werewolves and provide them with stellar armor. She was a well-organized woman. That didn't bode well for any of us.

I ordered the guards, and Aela, to escort the man out of the city.

"Stay safe and stay vigilant, sister," I said.

"You have nothing to worry about. If he tries anything…" Aela held up a finger, her nail transforming into a thick claw.

I nodded. Whatever my opinions on the beast blood were, it reassured me that Aela had that advantage.

I oversaw the guards and Aela until we got to the Wind District, where I returned to Jorrvaskr. No matter how much faith I had in Aela, I didn't trust that shifter. It wasn't a question of Aela's capability. If he dared try anything, the shifter wouldn't know what was coming for him. It still didn't ease all of my worries. _Mara watch over them_ , I prayed, then entered the mead hall.

I had a hard decision to make. My pack was once the Circle. However, I wasn't Harbinger back then. Now it wasn't just Aela, Farkas, and Vilkas—Ria, Athis, Njada, and Torvar would be considered my pack. It didn't matter that none of them had taken the blood. They were bound to me as Harbinger, and therefore, they were fair game for my curse. We, as the Circle, once kept the blood a secret from the whelps. That needed to change. We needed to alert them to what we faced.

I filled the twins on what happened with the shifter, and they were not pleased with the news. It confirmed our worst suspicions, and it plunged us into a new cycle of bloodshed. But, there was one more thing on my mind.

"Once Aela gets back, we need to be honest with the others," I said.

"How honest?" Vilkas asked, hesitant.

"Everything."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Farkas questioned.

"Good idea or not, it's time they heard the truth. This affects their lives now."

The twins grimaced, not sold on this approach. I understood why. For all of their lives, the blood was a privilege that only the Circle had. It was a well-guarded secret, one that remained locked at Jorrvaskr for years until it wasn't. When Vilkas and I eliminated the Silver Hand and I cured the twins of the blood, we all thought our secret was safe once more. We were wrong.

"The stakes aren't the same as they were months ago. It's worse," I reminded them. "We owe it to the others."

"What if they leave and start causing trouble for us?" Farkas asked.

"I can't stop anyone from leaving, Farkas. I won't force anyone to stay either. However, I am not magnanimous like Kodlak. I won't hesitate to strike anyone who threatens us."

Vilkas pursed his lips. "What happens when that threat comes from within? What happens when it's the face of a shield-sibling you're fighting instead of some unknown Silver Hand hunter? Can you handle that?"

"We won't have a choice, will we? I don't like this and I wish it remained secret, but things have changed. I will not have my shield-siblings live in Jorrvaskr and serve as Companions if they don't know the truth. We owe it to them to tell them their lives are at stake, and why. Those who want to will stay. Those that don't will leave."

Aela entered and asked, "What are we discussing?"

"The Harbinger wants us to come clean to the whelps about everything," Vilkas answered.

"Everything?" she asked, turning to me for an explanation.

"I assume that Hircine's curse on my pack extends to the others too," I said.

"Then they have the right to know, unless you're too ashamed of your past," Aela said, directing her accusation at the twins.

Vilkas scowled at her and Farkas turned a deep shade of red.

"It's not a question of shame, sister," Vilkas lied.

"Oh? If you weren't ashamed, you wouldn't have had the Harbinger cure you of the blood. Admit it; you don't want to be honest because it means you would have to face up to your actions, and your pride can't stand that."

"And you have no shame?" Farkas asked.

"No. I take responsibility for my actions, beast blood or not. I don't need to run away from what I am."

"This isn't a question of shame," I cut in, not wanting to listen to this debate again. "Regardless of how any of us views the blood, the fact remains we all committed atrocities under its influence, justified or not. We are all putting ourselves on the line if we are honest. Tell me, is that not worth it if we can keep our shield-siblings safe?"

I was aware that I was asking for something risky, but I wouldn't let the Circle take the fall. We were in this position because of my actions in Falkreath. I promised myself I would shoulder most of the burden, no matter what the cost. This was the least I could do.

"Alright," Farkas conceded.

"Alright?" I asked.

"I don't think we have much of a choice. We should be honest. It's the honorable thing to do," he admitted.

"I will follow your lead, Harbinger, but I don't like this. This will divide us," Vilkas warned.

"The important thing is that we stand united. We will get through this, somehow."

It was a brave sentiment, and I put up a strong face, although the matter wasn't so simple. With that, we sought to gather the others. It was time they knew about the secrets that haunted the Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Comments are also welcome. Feel free to speculate on what Farkas did ;)


	17. Unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where the Anyaie's relationship with the whelps goes to Oblivion in a hand basket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! It's good to be back with another update. Before I go into it, I want to credit the lovely and amazing  
> PoeticAnt44 for making a steaming hot one-shot of Hadvar and Anyaie. I refer you to [Chapter 26 of Impulsive Inclinations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370/chapters/67738097) for said one-shot. It's so true to the vision I had of Anyaie and Hadvar that I deem it canon! 
> 
> She's also made a gorgeous model of Anyaie that I've pasted down below. If you like what you see, I highly encourage you to check out her work on Nexus Mods too.
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter Seventeen!

I watched as each of my shield-siblings joined us in the hall, along with the faces that had been part of the Companions for as long as any of them could remember. We were a far cry from Ysgramor and his 500, with only eight of us being active guild members. Our numbers dwindled and diminished over the centuries. The war took away from potential recruits, most adventurous lads and lasses focusing their efforts on the continuous turmoil. With the threat looming over us again, I worried those numbers would whittle down once more.

The tension in the air was thick. On one side of the mead hall were the whelps, and on the other side, the Circle and me. I tried to gage their expressions to see if they knew something was amiss. Ria nodded at me, an acknowledgment of my presence, but no more than that, which stung. Athis' eyes were still heavy with sleep, and I didn't like waking him up so soon after he received healing. Meanwhile, Njada and Torvar were perplexed, both of them asking a dozen questions.

"Thank you all for meeting at such short notice. Especially you, Athis," I said, nodding at the Dunmer. "I won't let this drag on for too long, but I thought you would want to know who is responsible for your injury."

"You received information so soon?" Athis asked, alert.

"Yes. He's a shifter."

"A shifter?" Athis asked, his forehead creasing. "What does a child of Hircine want with me?"

"It's not what he wants with you. It's what he wants with all of us."

A palatable anxiety crackled in the air, much like the day we acknowledged Kodlak didn't have much time left on the Nirn. We all pulled together for the old man, bonded and bound through our grief. I was about to undo everything the old man strove for with a few simple words. Once I fractured those bonds, there was no turning back.

"A couple of hundred years ago, one of my predecessors struck a deal with the Glenmoril Witch Coven. The witches would grant the Companions great power if they agreed to hunt in Lord Hircine's name. Although the Companions assumed it was temporary, it turned out to be long lasting. Those who were invited to join the Circle took on the blood. That includes the members you see today," I explained.

Those words hung in the air, thicker than tar. I watched the looks on Ria and Athis' face as they pieced things together about our history. The puzzlement and shock would subside soon enough, replaced with anger. Njada didn't seem so fazed as she sipped on some wine. It was almost as though she was expecting it. Meanwhile, Torvar's face paled.

"Kodlak too?" Torvar stammered out.

I nodded. "Kodlak too. The Companions lived with this secret for years, undisturbed, until it came to the attention of a group of werewolf hunters known as the Silver Hand."

"But if it was such a well-kept secret, how did these hunters figure it out?" Athis asked.

The Circle tensed at his question. I flashed Athis a sad smile and said, "We remain unsure. This predates my entry into the Circle."

"Aye. We could never extract the information from the hunters. They were secretive," Vilkas added, and Farkas nodded.

"So what you're telling us is that you think these hunters are back," Njada concluded.

"No. It's not the Silver Hand. It's worse."

That was the part I dreaded the most. The Circle's history was something that I partook in. I perpetuated the cycle of the beast blood, but I wasn't its originator, not the way I was with Hircine's curse. Farkas laid a hand on my shoulder. His touch was comforting once, and it used to give me courage when I had none. It didn't at that moment. He couldn't brace me from their anger, nothing could.

"Hircine cursed me when I killed the shifter in Falkreath. I refused his blessing, and he didn't take to my actions. He said my pack and I would suffer great losses. We did. Those were dark times. When I became Harbinger, I sought to end the curse that plagued us for generations, as per Kodlak's last wishes. I thought I ended the Companions' bond to Hircine, and that I severed my own connection with the Daedric Prince."

"I assume it didn't work, did it?" Athis asked.

"It didn't. Along our way back from Rorikstead, Vilkas and I encountered the Daedric Prince in his stag form, and he reminded me my curse was unbroken. He's sent his children after me."

"Wait. We're not shifters, though. So how does this involve us?" Njada demanded.

I eyed my shield-siblings with intent. "Even though most of the Circle are no longer shifters, it doesn't take away I still have a pack. Each of you are bound to me as shield-siblings. Your life is in danger. All of our lives are. You all need to be aware of this so you can defend yourselves. I'm sorry the shifter caught you unawares, Athis. That's a mistake I don't intend on having happen again."

Athis' eyes were dark. "Once was already enough."

Between Torvar's pallid complexion and Njada's scorn, I knew they sided with Athis. It wasn't their reactions that hurt the most. Ria remained silent the entire time, her face turning redder than a flame. She was bursting, waiting to explode. It was only a matter of time, and when it was, I would deserve her rage.

That wasn't all there was to this meeting. There was one other issue, one that I avoided the moment I walked away from High Hrothgar over a year ago.

"I haven't just failed you as Harbinger. I've failed you as Dragonborn. The dragons are back. It's the first time I've seen one in months. I… I should have known better than to think that just because they disappeared, it didn't mean it was permanent. So I now have to contend with that."

Farkas and Aela turned to me in surprise; with the headrush that Athis' injury caused, neither Vilkas nor I considered telling them about Rorikstead. I almost forgot too. While the revelation stunned them, I had to face the disappointed faces of my other shield-siblings. They expected something else from me, something I had no right to deny them.

"I wish I had the words…" I started, and a lump formed in my throat. This was too difficult. _Kodlak would want you to press on and admit your mistakes._

I tried again. "I wish I had the words to express how ashamed I am. I ran away from my duty as _Dovahkiin_ , and I brought this danger onto us. And… and I ask for your forgiveness. If you can find it within yourselves. If you can't, I will not force the matter, neither will I force you to stay. I adhere to Kodlak's rule—every person is their own. If you stay, I will prove myself worthy of your trust. We will," I said, motioning to the Circle. "The Companions have faced difficult times, yet we always remain united. We need to move forward together."

That was what Kodlak would want me to say, and it was what I believed in. We needed to remain a united front. Our honesty was a risk, but it would do the Circle no good continuing with our shield-siblings unaware of the dangers that threatened us. I expected their anger, and I braced myself for it. It didn't hurt any less when I got it.

"Did anyone else know they were shifters?" Ria asked. Her voice was soft, but underneath it burned an undeniable rage.

"We did, lass," Vignar answered, nodding to Eorlund, who shook his head in assent.

"And so did I," Tilma admitted. "That's what happens when you serve the Companions for generations."

"That doesn't mean we took the blood. Such things are not befitting of a true Nord," Eorlund added.

"And yet they did!" Ria snapped, all the while her eyes met mine. "They've been hiding this from us for, what, years? Eorlund's right—no real Nord follows Hircine! No Companion should get involved with a Daedric Prince, yet alone Hircine, and here we are! You pissed on Ysgramor's legacy."

"Oh? Is that so?" Aela growled. "What do you know about the hunt, sister? Tell me, after all the time I trained you, you think there's no honor in the hunt?"

"There's no honor in selling yourself to a Daedric Prince for more power! That's not who the Companions are—at least, that's not who I took you for."

The disappointment on Ria's face was immeasurable. Aela scoffed at Ria's outburst. I shook my head. Aela wasn't like the rest of the Circle, choosing to keep the beast blood. The hunt was in her blood, and there was no amount of talking that would convince her to get rid of it. I couldn't force it on her; that wasn't my job as Harbinger. Still, accusing Aela of being less of a Companion because of the blood was unfair.

"Sister, Aela is a true Companion, through and through, beast blood or not," I said. "You have all the right to be angry, but you will not question her honor."

"Then I'll question yours!" she snapped.

Ria walked up to me, getting right in my face. It was the first time I ever saw her tremble from rage, and I didn't like it. I wished I could be gentle while I soothed her; however, treating her with kid gloves was a dangerous thing. The last thing I wanted to do was provoke her any further. I also deserved it. No matter how angry she was at the other Companions and the Circle, none of them were me. I was her closest friend, yet I withheld information from her.

"I thought if I would trust anyone to be the Dragonborn, it was you! Now… now I'm not so sure. You failed us. You failed _all_ of us."

The tears streamed down her face. They sprang to my eyes too, but I blinked them away. This was criticism that I merited. Njada was the one who tried getting her to sit down again. Ria swatted her hand away. The worst had yet to spill forward from her lips.

"Ria… I'm so sorry…" I started.

"Sorry is what you should have said months ago!" she shrieked. "Sorry is when I asked if you were hiding something from me, or when I asked if you were being honest! _Or_ when you didn't bother fucking listening to me when I told you what I felt about you being in the Circle!"

Not for the first time that day, the others were confused, and only I knew her meaning. She wasn't entirely wrong. Despite her being so close to me, there was a chasm between us, a chasm I created months ago with my secrets and lies. When she came to me, heart open and willing to talk, I… was less than honest. She knew, and didn't call me out, and so we were civil. The coldness and the distance caught up to us, making itself obvious in that instance.

"What else are you hiding from us, Anyaie?" Ria demanded.

"Nothing."

"Really? Or are we going to find out in another couple of weeks that you were lying about something else? You might as well speak now, get it out of your system."

"The Harbinger spoke the truth. Now we need to find a way to move forward," Aela said, her voice firm.

"That's so godsdamned easy for you to say!" Ria snapped and turned to look at our shield-siblings. "We've been fed lie upon lie and…"

"Some of those lies were for your own protection," Vilkas cut in and eyed the whelps. "The blood is a dangerous thing, whether you have it or not."

"So were we all not good enough for the blood?" Athis demanded.

"Good enough? You're hearing of the problems we encountered with the blood and you wonder if you were not good enough?"

"It's a question of principle. Why is it that the Harbinger, who was newer than us, received a Circle invite before any of us did?"

"I have a complicated relationship with the blood. It doesn't count," I said.

"However true that is, the fact is that the blood could have given us an advantage over these children of Hircine!" Athis said.

"Wait, you _want_ the blood?" Torvar sputtered out, and I swore he was turning an awful shade of green.

"Maybe I do. Maybe if we had the blood, we would be better able to deal with this threat."

"It isn't that easy. The blood does things to you. It doesn't make you think clearly. You think you can handle it until you can't," Vilkas said.

Farkas approached Athis, good-natured as he ever was. He trained the Dunmer, sparred with him, and was even his shield-sibling when it came time for his trial. I tried taking on most of the blame for everything, but seeing the kindest of my shield-siblings on the receiving end of Athis' ire reminded me I couldn't shield them from everything. It pained me seeing my shield-siblings torn apart.

"You're angry. I get it. It doesn't mean the blood is the answer. It's not what Kodlak wanted, and it's not what Anyaie wants."

"Kodlak is dead, you oaf."

"Anyaie isn't."

"She still failed us. Just because you want to fuck her, it doesn't take away we're in this situation because of her." Athis sneered.

The tension in the hall exploded as Farkas swung his fist at Athis' face. The Dunmer staggered backwards and landed on his back. I hoped that would be the end of it—we couldn't fight amongst ourselves. _And I don't want Farkas' feelings used against him, or me_. I tried calling out to Farkas, hoping that would calm him down. Farkas pinned Athis down before he had the chance to get up. I had to put an end to this, or else it was going to get uglier than it was.

"Farkas! Enough! I'll use my Thu'um on both of you!" I threatened.

He didn't listen to me, and he balled his fist, ready to take another shot at Athis. _Godsdamn it, if I must._

" _Liz slen nus_!" I shouted.

An icy wind tore through Jorrvaskr, and the ice swirled around my brawling shield-siblings. Everyone covered their faces, shielding themselves from the shards of ice that followed. When we opened our eyes, Farkas and Athis were encased in ice. The others faced me, stunned into silence. I regretted using my Thu'um like that, although it would give me an opportunity to say my piece.

"We can't let this keep happening," I said, pointing to Athis and Farkas' frozen bodies. "You all have the right to be upset, but we need to remain united."

"The Harbinger is right. We are all shield-siblings. No matter what mistakes we have committed, we made a vow to stand by each other," Vilkas added.

"Shield-siblings need to trust each other. The Harbinger might not have wanted to hurt anyone. The problem is, good intentions aren't enough. All of our lives are at stake now. How can I call her my Harbinger if I don't trust her, yet alone as a shield-sister? And if I don't trust her, why is she worth fighting for?" Njada asked.

It was a fair question, and one that I had no suitable answer for.

"What about your other shield-siblings? Would you walk away from them?" Aela asked.

"No. I will stay for them, but I'm not a liar, so I'll tell you all straight—my faith in our Harbinger is shaken. I thought she was honorable too, just like Ria did. Just like we all did."

Silence fell over the hall as everyone waited for me to speak. There was nothing I could say to make this better. In a few minutes, I had unraveled all the work and effort I had taken to bring us together, to make myself a part of this group. Ria seethed, not adding to Njada's comments.

Before I could answer, I heard Farkas and Athis groaning. Glad for the distraction, I tended to them, melting away the rest of the ice with the warmth from a simple flame spell. Farkas' fury was replaced with shame, and he walked away from Athis. The Dunmer pressed a hand to his bruised cheek, wincing at the pain.

"So hold on… what does that mean for the blood?" Torvar demanded. "We can't forget that! We're here because of it. I don't fuck with Daedra, and I'm not gonna go turn myself into some hairy fucker of Hircine to stay here!"

"You won't have to do any such thing," I said, and glared at Athis for putting the idea in his head.

"And how are you so sure we'll listen?" Athis challenged. This was crossing into dangerous territory. If the elf continued along this path, he wouldn't like the words that came out of my mouth next.

"The blood will drive us further apart. I forbid anyone from taking it."

"You can't order us and you know it. Just because you were cowardly with the blood, doesn't mean that the rest of us are."

Ice dripped through my veins. Athis' words were those of a callow whelp. He couldn't understand the way the blood called to you, bent you, and forced you to its will, all the while keeping its enchanting grip on all your senses. You could control it all you wanted, but it had a holder tighter than a Hagraven did with her lair. Hircine's blood beckoned us as the war drum did during battle. You couldn't ignore it, and when you succumbed to it… no, he wouldn't get it. He didn't know what he was fooling with.

"You dare call me a coward for how I acted with the blood?" I growled.

"He's saying what we all have on our minds," Ria snapped. "I don't get the blood thing, but running away from the dragons? That's what a coward does. You're not worthy of being Harbinger, or Dragonborn."

It didn't matter that those words were the truth, they stung. They stung more than anything else she could have said. I remained even-tempered throughout our discussions. Now it hurt. My composure vanished.

"Neither of you should judge me when you weren't deemed good enough to get into the Circle," I growled.

Their faces both became redder than the flames at a forge. I hit a nerve, which I intended. It felt good getting under their skins. I didn't expect there would be any truth to those words—their faces told me otherwise. The truth sank like lead right to my stomach, and the truth set in. If it was true, then I wondered how much resentment they harbored towards me. Did I ever unify the Companions?

"Stop it," Vilkas said. "We're all letting our tempers flare and it's not doing us any good, especially you, Harbinger. We need to figure out how to move forward."

"You would be wise to listen to the Circle," Vignar said, unimpressed at our behavior. "All of you. Hurt feelings will only get you so far. Manbeasts are not the stealthiest lot, yet one attacked you in broad daylight, undetected."

"Did you have a chance to look at his armor?" Eorlund asked me.

"Only for a moment. You're also convinced that there were enchantments on it, don't you?" I asked, and Eorlund nodded. The old man trained me well.

"These are not some mangy beasts. They are trained and armed. Not only that, but there are dragons on the loose. Do you understand what I'm telling you? You have bigger issues instead of who wants to fuck who," Eorlund warned, and Athis flushed in shame.

"Well said, brother. You are not a group of children. You are Skyrim's finest warriors. Skyrim needs you now more than ever, and the Dragonborn needs you by her side. You can't do that if you're not alive. So you will learn to put your anger aside until you can make peace," Vignar concluded.

"What if we can't do that?" Torvar squeaked.

"You will yourself to do it," Tilma said, her voice gentle. "I've been in this hall for many years, my boy. I've seen shield-siblings kill each other in cold blood over more trivial matters than this. Now is not the time to let resentments cloud our judgments. These are exceptional times, and you are all exceptional. Find it in yourselves to come together."

"How can I do that, Tilma?" Ria asked, her voice shaky.

Tilma gave her a sweet smile. "You'll find it in yourself when the time comes. Do not let this anger fester. Stay united."

"The Gray-Manes and Tilma are right," I admitted, the shame creeping up as I reflected on my outburst. "The tensions are running high now, and I've done nothing to help that. That is what Hircine wants from us. I can't stop you from feeling betrayed, or scared, or angered, and I don't want to. What we've told you today is no small matter. But we need a way forward if we're going to fight the shifters."

"What do you have in mind?" Farkas asked.

I didn't know what to do about the shifters, though I knew one thing for certain—I would not let anyone come with me to High Hrothgar, and none of them were fighting dragons. This was something I had to do alone. I already sicced Hircine's children on them, they didn't need to fight another one of my battles. They didn't need to know that yet.

"You are not to provoke the shifters or go chasing after them," I said, making sure that Aela heard those words.

"So you expect us to stand here and wait until they attack us again?" Njada asked.

"I don't like waiting around either. Seems weak," Farkas agreed.

"We're already so few, Farkas. We can't afford to be reckless. If we are going to tackle Hircine, we need to be smart. This is a bloody enough feud without provoking their wrath. We aren't equipped to fight werewolves, except Aela because she is one. And before any of you get any ideas, I meant what I said—the blood is not a solution. Arming ourselves is."

"If I can get you all silver weapons and armor within the next couple of days, will that ease your worries?" Eorlund asked.

"Yes. It would. Once we have that, we can come up with a more sufficient plan of attack. Unless you have a pressing job, stay around Jorrvaskr, for now. The Circle and I will take that time to educate you more on the blood, and the best ways of defeating a shifter."

"I don't think… I don't… I don't feel well," Torvar complained.

We all watched as Torvar left the mead hall for the living quarters. I flashed Athis a look and much to my surprise, he nodded and trailed after him. It was a glimmer of hope that we could still pull together despite our difficulties. I reminded myself that I would check on him later.

"And the matter of dragons?" Vilkas asked.

"I'll make sure the Harbinger has the first silver weapons available to her. As soon as she's ready, she can go to High Hrothgar," Eorlund said.

"I won't let you do the work alone. I'll help you at the forge. Between the two of us, it will go quicker. Then I'll see the Greybeards," I said.

"So while you're off saving the world, we have to take on your battle?" Njada asked.

A harsh laugh escaped my lips. "Trust me, sister. I suspect Hircine's pawns will make themselves known sooner than later. They'll come for me too, no matter where I am."

"You can't be travelling alone. I'll come with you," Farkas offered.

It was noble of Farkas; however, it wasn't an option anymore. I needed him at Jorrvaskr, not following me as I figured out the dragon problem. This was my responsibility. Meanwhile, Vilkas flashed me a look. _Is that disappointment?_ I figured he would be glad to be back at Jorrvaskr, so why was it he didn't seem happy with the offer?

"Now is not the time to discuss that. Before we tackle that, I want to make sure Torvar is okay. For the rest of you, stay vigilant. Eorlund, as soon as I'm done with Torvar, I'll come see you at the forge. Then, Farkas, the Circle and I can discuss leadership and guidance while I visit the Greybeards."

Farkas nodded, but I could tell that he wasn't happy with the decision.

The exhaustion set in. It didn't seem like Ria and Njada had it in them to discuss the matter any further, so we dispersed. Njada went to the yard, probably to channel her frustrations into her training. Before I went to the whelps' quarters, Ria gave me a parting glance. My heart ached. I was cruel earlier, and I wanted to apologize to her. She never gave me the chance, instead choosing to join Njada in the yard. I wasn't sure if I could make any of this right.

When I made it to the whelp quarters, I found Athis lingering at the threshold. He grimaced at me and gestured towards the room. The welt on his cheek was nasty, turning black against his dusky blue skin. His accusation wasn't lost on me, and if Farkas hadn't reacted, I would have. Wherever we stood, it wasn't a pleasant place.

"How is he?" I asked.

"A mess. He won't stop going on about how he needs a drink. I can't get him to talk. After today, you won't be a welcome presence either."

"I have to try. It's the least I can do for him."

Athis scowled at me. The trust between us was severed. Not that I blamed him—if it hadn't been for Hircine's curse, the shifter wouldn't have gone after him. The injury and discovering the Circle hid something was a lot to process at once.

"Very well. Go see him if you must."

I wanted to say something to make it right. He wasn't wrong when he called me a coward, and I should have been more patient. Maybe if I hadn't let my temper get the best of me, I could have explained the blood. If there was ever that chance, it vanished. My shield-brother's stony expression confirmed it.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Sorry isn't good enough. I expected better of you, Anyaie. We all did."

Athis walked away, leaving me with a heavy heart as I entered the whelp's quarters. Torvar was curled up on his side in bed, muttering something underneath his breath. His body shook. I wanted to put a hand on him to comfort him, but Athis was right; I didn't know how welcomed that would be, especially if he was in this state.

"Torvar. It's me," I called out.

"No! Go away!"

"Torvar, listen. You're safe."

"How can I be safe when Hircine cursed you? I heard what you said, about us being your pack and…"

"You're safe right now. You're at Jorrvaskr. The threat passed," I interrupted.

"That doesn't mean it'll stop, or it won't happen again, or…"

"I know," I said, keeping my voice gentle. "Which is why we're going to deal with this, together."

Torvar turned to face me. His eyes were wide with fright, as if he had seen a ghost walking through the halls. Some old memory haunted him. Whatever was bothering him, I had to coax it out of him. If I pushed him too hard, he would break, so I needed to proceed with caution.

"I need a drink," he said.

"The last thing you need is a drink."

"It'll numb out the pain."

That was something I understood too well — the need to drown out your feelings when you're not in control. It was an act of self-preservation, pure survival. It didn't make it any healthier in the long run. So I did what I would hate anyone doing if I were in his position.

"You're not drinking through this. How long have you tempered your drinking?" I asked.

"Uh… well… when Kodlak died, so over three months?"

"You've worked so hard at that. Don't risk it now."

He shook his head and pointed to underneath the bed. I sighed and reached, finding a full bottle of ale, a backup in case he needed it. I never understood what tormented Torvar. He couldn't be much older than Erik in Rorikstead, yet it looked like he had seen more throughout his life. He always mentioned a man of his station had many debts, yet he never elaborated. Neither of us cared to ask, and the realization made me feel worse. How could I have ever pretended I was a decent Harbinger if I didn't even know my shield-siblings?

"Torvar…"

"I should be stronger. Fuck, I was even ready to toss this shit out, but today… fuck. I just… this shit with Hircine. I don't like it."

Good. He was talking.

He continued. "The twins and Aela, I could see taking the blood. Fuck, even Skjor. But Kodlak? You? I thought you were… I dunno… above that."

"The blood… it's not so simple." It was a shoddy explanation, and it wasn't one I was in the mood to delve into with him.

"Did you ever just think of saying no to it?" he asked.

"Did you ever just think of not drinking?"

He frowned. "You know it ain't that simple."

"Neither is the blood. Trust me, Torvar. It's not. I've struggled with it. We all have."

"Have you?" he demanded. "Do you know what it is to wake up night after night, terrified about seeing the same shit play out in front of your eyes over and over again? And no matter how much you drink, or how much you fuck, or how much you fight, or whatever, it doesn't block it out? And sometimes, the worst part is that you're finally fucking happy, and you feel like you deserve it. And then…" Torvar's voice hitched in his throat and he continued, his voice hoarse, "… and then something pops up, something that reminds you that you can't escape it, that it's always going to be a part of you and… you're back at square one…"

"Yes. I do know," I said.

He didn't answer, so I took a chance on him.

"You probably don't believe me right now. That's okay," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he didn't flinch at my touch, I continued. "My experience and yours won't be the same, but they may be similar. If you want to talk about it, you can come to me. You're not alone. I meant what I told you after Kodlak died. You have a place here. You always will."

Torvar looked up at me, as if he wanted to trust what I was telling him.

"I don't know. This place. It used to be a safe place for me. And now…" his voice trailed off, and I heard him choke back a sob.

It reminded me of how young he was, and of how much potential he had too. We all joked at least once that we didn't understand how he passed his trial. That was a lie—he would have never made it as far as he did if he didn't have something that kept him going. I hoped he remembered that.

"I'll do what I can to make Jorrvaskr safe again," I promised.

"How?"

"We'll find a way. The first step is to make sure we're armed. That's half of the battle. Speaking of, I need to see Eorlund. I can't let the old man do it alone. If you need me, will you come find me?"

He nodded, though I suspected he wouldn't take me up on my offer. I left the whelp's quarters unsure if I comforted him at all. Even though it didn't feel like enough, it was the best I could do. Maybe he would come to trust me again with time. When that day came, I hoped he was comfortable enough to open up to me.

***

It had been a long time since I worked at the forge with Eorlund. Although Alvor taught me the basics of smithing, Eorlund was the one who pushed my skill to the next level. There was a time I considered becoming his apprentice too. Smithing was something that required all of your concentration. It cleared my mind, something I needed after the events of the last couple of days. Silver daggers were also simple, almost like making iron daggers. A small smirk came on my face as I remembered the dozens of failed daggers I made for Alvor. What seemed so difficult once came to me with ease.

"I never thought the day would come where I would have to make silver weapons for the Companions," Eorlund mused, putting the finishing touches on a silver arrow.

"Neither did I. Then again, I was so sure that I stopped the Hircine matter and… no, that's not true. I always doubted It. I ignored that doubt, hoping it would be okay," I admitted.

The blacksmith frowned. "We all did, but Daedra are trickier than anyone realizes. It's why we Gray-Manes never took the blood."

I let out a harsh laugh. "You know, I sometimes wonder if it would have been easier if I did what Hircine told me. What if gaining his favor caused fewer issues?"

"There's no sense in dwelling on what could have been. Besides, you don't believe that either."

My lips quirked into a grin. "No, you're right. I don't. I suppose I enjoy being miserable."

Eorlund laughed and slapped me across the back. "That's my miserable lass. I don't know how I did it without your brooding in my forge. I almost considered getting Vilkas to replace you."

"Stop it. I don't brood… much."

"I beg to differ." The old man flashed me a warm smile, a rare sight. "You did good today by being honest. It was the right thing to do, even if it doesn't feel that way right now."

"I lost my temper today, Eorlund. That's not behavior fitting of a Harbinger."

"It's not. However, it might do you good to tell the whelps what you experienced with the blood so they understand your rage. It's like a peace offering."

I shook my head. It took me so long to get over the blood. If I had to tell them about how I acted, it would kill me. If they were already ashamed of my actions, it would worsen if they found out about what I did under the blood's influence. _Didn't you finish encouraging Torvar to talk?_ my conscience asked. Well, Torvar was different. I didn't need to talk about it when it didn't torment me anymore. There were other ways to make peace and recounting my struggles was not one of them.

"I'll take your silence as a no and… okay. You should have a full quiver, so I want you to listen to me," Eorlund said, and I was relieved we could change the subject as he handed me my new arrows. "If what you said about this shifter being so undetectable is true, it means they have a damned good smith and alchemist on their side. The arrows and the silver daggers are your starting point. If there was any time to put your alchemy and enchanting skills to use, lass, this would be it. It's not just the magic. You have to be smarter than them, and stress that when you're talking to the whelps. Make them understand that werewolves acting on a Daedra's will is no joke. We've already lost so many. We can't lose any more."

The Companions, myself included, sometimes took it for granted that the Gray-Manes were an integral part of the Companions. They witnessed the same losses we did and felt them as deeply as we did too. Vignar often bellyached that the Companions squabbled amongst each other. It was less often nowadays, but it came from a good place—I guess. Though the Gray-Manes didn't take the blood, they were as much of a part of this struggle as we all were.

"I'll try my best," I whispered.

"I know you will. There's a reason Kodlak chose you. Remember that."

I gave him a weak smile. I always questioned why Kodlak picked me. I doubted his choice more now than ever. With the dragons and—oh! The dragons.

"One more thing before I go," I said.

"What is it?"

"I have some dragon bone from the dragon Vilkas and I killed in Rorikstead."

"Do you now?" Eorlund asked, and his eyes lit up.

"I do. Is it possible to make armor or weapons out of it?"

"It should be. When you have a chance, give it to me. I'll look at it and see what I can do."

I thanked him and as I left, I heard. "Dragon bone. Huh. Who would have dreamed it?"

***

It was one of the few nights that the mead hall was quiet, unspoken words and accusations lingering between all of us. We all called it an early night, with the Circle and I agreeing to meet in the Underforge. We needed our privacy, and my quarters wouldn't suffice.

Located underneath the Skyforge, the Underforge was where the Circle once met to perform rites to Hircine. Aela stepped ahead of the twins and I, and the hidden door opened to her. The twins and I shared a brief look before following her. We hadn't stepped into the Underforge since we rid ourselves of the blood; only one of Hircine's could access it. It was as I remembered it, though—cold, with an electric current surging through the air. Aela maintained the altar and the basin, and I even noticed a new totem of Hircine that wasn't there months ago.

The door shut behind us, and it was time that we discussed how to move forward. My shield-siblings waited for me to speak. The three of them were tired, and I saw the circles underneath their eyes. Today brought about old memories for all of us, some that we tried to ignore, others that still stung as though they were fresh. In being honest, I put each of them through the ringer.

"Today was difficult, which we expected," I said.

"There was so much you omitted," Vilkas protested. "We're your shield-siblings. You should have shared that burden with us."

"Some tales are best left for another day. We don't want to overwhelm them with information. The betrayal is still new."

"And what does that mean in the meantime?" Aela asked.

"It means we need to act civil. I understand tensions are still running high, and a few of us have said things that we regret, myself included. The most important thing is that they're armed and that they know how to take a shifter down. The rest will fall into place," I said, trying to make it sound like I believed my own words.

"And what happens when you're at High Hrothgar? You're not planning on travelling alone, are you?" Vilkas asked.

"I have to. You will all have to act in my stead. This isn't up for debate. It's an order, and one I'm asking you all to heed."

"That's not wise. These shifters may want to hurt us, but they're after you. You don't think that they won't take advantage of the fact you're alone?" Aela asked.

"We lost one Harbinger. I don't want to lose another," Farkas added, then turned red. "Not because of what Athis said. That's… uh…"

"Not the most important thing," Vilkas cut in, and I heard Farkas let out a sigh of relief. "Farkas has it right. We can't lose another Harbinger. You need one of us to accompany you to High Hrothgar."

"Let me ponder it," I said as a way of deflecting their insistence. "I want to make sure the whelps have some knowledge of shifters before I go. Then we can tackle this again. In the meantime, I want all of you to get some rest."

Of course, none of us would get any rest. This marked a new conflict in our history. There was so much more left to discuss, so many questions that remained unanswered too, but neither of us had the strength to answer them.

We exited the Underforge. Aela and Vilkas already made it into the mead hall, and I was about to make my way back to the Wind District.

"Wait," Farkas called out, grabbing my hand. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

I was sure my smile was as weary as I was. "There will be time to talk, Farkas. I don't have any energy left. I need to be with my girls."

He let go of me and nodded. I couldn't discuss anything else when I was drained. So, I entered Breezehome, both girls tackling me as soon as I walked in. I held onto them, the tears pricking my eyes. We were safe for now, and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Comments are always welcome!


	18. Difficult Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Happy New Year! I know it's been a while, but it's good to be back again. I'm going to get back into a chapter every two weeks upload schedule. 
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!

_Sundas, 18th_ _day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

The crisp air greeted my shield-siblings and me as we made our way outside of Whiterun's crumbling walls. The late night sky was clear, and the two waning moons of Masser and Secunda illuminated our path. Not long ago, nights like this used to stir up my baser instincts. I closed my eyes, remembering the hunt and the exhilaration that came with it. _No, don't humor those ideas_ , I thought, and settled on enjoying a beautiful night, no more, no less.

We stopped when we were far enough from the city, right near the plains. I was grateful that my shield-siblings followed the Circle with little protest. Throughout the last few days, the mead hall was silent. The few interactions the Circle had with the whelps were stunted at best, irritated at worst. The tension was present, threatening to explode at the slightest provocation. That night's lesson was a necessary and temporary truce—I hoped it would stay that way.

"Keep a sharp eye," I told the twins, and they nodded.

It was the first time in two days that I addressed everyone. Truth be told, I was still nervous. We hadn't resolved anything since that initial meeting. It was strange guiding them without clearing the air first. It didn't matter that there were no outward displays of hostility since the meeting; the betrayal was still so fresh. Hopefully, the resentments would be held at bay for a few hours.

"Thank you all for following us," I started, and I meant it. Then again, I had Njada to thank for Torvar's presence. She insisted that he join and dragged him by the ear to get him to show up. He was still reluctant, but at least he wasn't causing a scene.

"Tonight, Aela and I will teach you how to fight a shifter. Sister, would you mind going into your beast form?" I asked.

Aela nodded and added, "Don't look away. You need to see what shifting looks like."

My shield-sister transformed. What the whelps didn't know was how effortless Aela made the transformation appear. She closed her eyes, allowing Hircine's curse, or gift, to overcome her. Her muscles spasmed and twitched as her form became longer, bulkier, yet she didn't grunt. The more you transformed, the less painful it was. Dark fur grew across her flesh, claws sharp as daggers grew from fingers and toes, the teeth elongated inside a crushing jaw. _Such power_ , I observed, never getting over the rush of seeing the change from beast to human. My shield-siblings didn't realize how lucky they were to see such an easy and mild transformation

None of the whelps averted their eyes, though their reactions were obvious. Athis and Ria stared transfixed, as if unable to tear their eyes away from the strange sight. Torvar scrambled backwards,terror on his face, while Njada kept him in a deadlock so he didn't escape. Of the four of them, she was the least fazed, as if it happened every day. _Strange. I should ask her about that._

"Manbeasts are no ordinary foes. They see the world sharper than you and I, not to mention their hearing is impeccable, and their sense of smell...it's unparalleled," I said.

Blood always smelled so metallic in my human form. I remember being so surprised that it could smell so sweet. Vilkas quirked a brow at me, and I cleared my throat. "All to say, dealing with shifters means you have to be crafty. You mask your scent as best you can, you become stealthy, and hope for the best."

"You mean they have all that goin' for them _and_ they have enchanted armor?" Torvar asked, his eyes looking like they were going to pop out of his head. "We're fucked. We're so fucked. We're so, so…"

"Not fucked yet," I cut in and flashed my silver dagger. "Having the right weapons is half the battle. Eorlund and I crafted arrows with silver arrowheads, as well as some daggers like the one I have here. In the next couple of days, you will each receive silver armor as well. It may not be Skyforge steel, but it's our best bet until this threat passes."

I motioned to Aela to come closer to me. "Most of you are skilled in archery, which is good. Ranged combat is your best bet when dealing with shifters, but you won't always have that luxury. They're resilient and don't injure easily. Now watch. You first, sister."

Aela lunged at me with her claws, and I moved to the side as she narrowly missed my throat. I drew my battleaxe, ready to spar her. Despite her size, her movements were lithe and graceful, something that came with years of honing the blood. I dodged all of her attempts to grab me. While I got a few blows in, my goal wasn't to injure her. The point was to educate the others on what combat with a shifter was like, so I gave Aela the perfect opening to grab my axe. She understood and yanked it with her thick paws, trying to shake it out of my grasp.

"Do you see how hard I have to hold on?" I told the others, my voice strained with the effort.

Aela ripped the axe out of my hands and tossed it aside as though it were a burlap sack. I lifted my hands up in surrender and she nodded, backing away from me and giving me a chance to retrieve my weapon again.

"This was Aela restraining herself," I warned them.

One glance at all of my shield-siblings told me what they were all thinking. Ria and Torvar blanched. Anyone who saw such raw power would be afraid. Njada grimaced, showing that she was taking the situation seriously. Meanwhile, Athis' expression was too uninterested. It didn't fool me for one second. The Dunmer was getting something out of this lesson that I didn't want, and that notion unsettled me.

"We don't know how long some of these shifters have had the blood. Some might be as experienced as Aela, and that's dangerous. But the new shifters are just as bad. They will have an insatiable bloodlust. Because they're so new, they won't know how to control themselves. They might be more reckless, but not less lethal. Each of you, one by one, I want you to spar Aela," I said.

"You want us to do _what_?" Torvar demanded, his voice cracking.

"Godsdamn it, Torvar! You heard the Harbinger right the first time," Njada said, rolling her eyes.

"How do we stand a chance against _her_?" Torvar asked, pointing to Aela.

"It's still Aela, you idiot! Beast form or not, that doesn't change! She's not going to kill you, but I will if you keep this shit up!"

"She's right," Ria added, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's not easy getting used to. But we need this to stay safe."

That calmed him down. He nodded and waited for his turn to spar. I flashed a grateful smile at Ria, but she ignored me. She didn't do it for my benefit. It stung, but it was better than the outburst from a couple of days ago.

One by one, my shield-sibling took turns fighting Aela in her beast form. Njada went first, always so dauntless. Of all the Companions, Njada was the most dexterous. It didn't surprise me that she could dodge Aela's attacks. What did surprise me was how she got a few strikes of her own, even taking Aela off guard. That boosted my hope for the other whelps—for a moment.

This was new to Ria, and the unfamiliarity of the situation was her downfall. Aela dealt swipe after swipe, never hurting Ria, though showing the Imperial her weak spots. Ria's mouth settled into a line, frustrated that she couldn't seem to counter any of Aela's moves. I called it a draw, and Ria mumbled something under her breath as she took her place besides the other whelps. This wasn't like her, not when I saw how skillfully she could wield an axe. I wanted to offer words of assurance, but I suspected she wouldn't like that. Plus, there was no time for coddling.

Torvar was the worst off. He let his fear rule over him, making sloppy mistakes. His stance was too wide, then he was too stiff, and worst of all, he froze just as Aela's claws were about to tear into him. The aggravation rolled off Aela in waves. Before she could make a comment to make it worse, I broke up the match and pulled Torvar aside.

"You're letting your fear cloud your judgment. Aela won't hurt you. This is like training in the yard," I said.

"Can we not baby him? It _is_ different. You all trained us to take down ordinary men, mer, and what have you. You said so yourself; these are not ordinary enemies, or shifters," Njada said.

"I'm aware of that. However, he has to learn to push his fear aside. That requires some compassion, not reprimanding him," I said.

Torvar frowned. It wasn't a question of babying him. If he had some sort of encounter with daedra, it was likely contributing to his reluctance. I would not fault him, especially when I was no different than he was when I faced dragons. There was an old trick I learned in my early days in Skyrim. I was going to tell him about it when I heard Athis gripe, "This is useless."

"Is it now, brother?" I asked.

"If we became shifters ourselves…"

"We are _not_ becoming shifters in order to deal with them," I said, my temples throbbing as I tried to stay patient.

"And why not? Look at us! The only one who is semi-competent with how to fight shifters is Njada! If we had the blood, we could best them."

"This is ridiculous. You can hold your own against Aela without the blood."

"You all owe us this. You all put us into this mess, and you will give us the tools to get out of it."

"The blood is _not_ an option."

"Not only is it not an option, but I'm starting to not like your tone, elf," Vilkas snapped. "The Circle wronged you, but we don't owe you the blood."

"I don't give a fuck about the blood, but Athis is right. We're in this because of all of you, Anyaie, and Kodlak," Ria said.

There was truth in those words. I acknowledged that. However, it didn't stop Vilkas' temper from rearing its head. He faced Ria, his silvery eyes burning with rage. He wouldn't let Ria get away with that.

"Vilkas," I warned.

"No. I will talk and I want all of you to listen to me."

He approached the whelps. The memories of when I first arrived to Jorrvaskr hit me, reminding me how intimidating Vilkas could be. It was his eyes, the way they stared into your soul, making you shrink back into yourself. Torvar shrinked at the sight of him, and even Athis cockiness vanished as he stepped backwards.

"You can blame the Circle that stands before you, and you can blame our predecessors, but that does not include Kodlak. The Circle won't tolerate it. I won't tolerate it," he growled.

Njada, being the sensible one, asked, "Why shouldn't it include Kodlak? You're not stupid, Vilkas. You realize that he continued the blood, right? He still kept it a secret from all of us."

"It's different. Kodlak wanted to rid us of the blood. He wanted to end the secrets."

"That doesn't take away that he kept it from us," Ria concluded.

"And? What does it matter? You learned the truth, didn't you? Stop dragging him into this and let the dead rest in peace."

"Come on. You're smarter than this. It doesn't matter if the blood isn't his fault. Every Circle member, every Harbinger is guilty. We wouldn't be in this position if you didn't keep a secret," Ria insisted.

"Yet you're giving Anyaie shit for doing what none of her predecessors did!" Vilkas snapped.

"My issues with Anyaie aren't just this. They're personal," Ria countered, and I nodded. She was right about that much. "Have you ever had a friend betray you, Vilkas?"

Vilkas laughed. It was an ugly, broken sound, and he answered, "Count yourself lucky that it was Anyaie and no one else."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means at least Anyaie cares," Farkas said before I could get a word in. "This Circle… we've seen a lot."

"And do you think that rights the wrongs you've all committed?" Athis asked. The welt on his cheek was gone. Danica healed it yesterday, and she still seemed intent on tending to my shield-sibling. If Athis disclosed anything to her, she didn't mention it to me. I hoped he wasn't so stupid. The last thing we needed is all of Skyrim discovering our issues.

"It doesn't have to make it right. You wanna be angry with us? It's fine. The thing is, dragging Kodlak into this or wanting to take the blood won't solve anything," Farkas insisted.

"And neither is rehashing this issue again. Athis, listen to me and listen to me well. No one is taking the blood. As for the rest of you, I'm not the only one to blame for the blood. You're right. All the Harbingers before me perpetuated the cycle. That includes Kodlak," I said, addressing Vilkas. "The old man did his best, and he wanted better, brother, but it doesn't take away the sting of betrayal."

He nodded, placated at least for a bit.

"We've broken your trust. You've all made that clear. This lesson was the first step towards reconciliation. This is the closest thing we can make to a peace offering. When I leave for High Hrothgar in a few days, I need to be assured that you can all handle yourselves."

"Then this silly sparring won't do anything for us! You should have prepared us long ago before this became an issue!" Athis spat. "If we could only take the blood..."

"You are not taking the blood!" I growled. "Now shut up and spar with Aela so you can learn how to take down a damned shifter!"

The crackling flames of tension threatened to ignite. Athis glared at me, his ruby red eyes shining underneath the waning moons. With his resentment and anger, taking the blood would be all consuming. He wouldn't be able to control his beast. He would turn into a hollow version of himself, consumed by the hunt. If anyone understood that, it was me.

"Just because you're the Harbinger, doesn't mean I have to head your counsel. I'm leaving. Anyone else who agrees with me that this is a waste of time is free to join me."

His insolence grated on my nerves. So I spoke too soon, as I always do. "Go. Have at it. Does anyone else want to join him?"

The elf and I watched the others, waiting to see who would make a move. Torvar remained too stunned to react, so I turned my attention to my shield-sisters. Ria pursed her lips, as if considering following the elf. If I had to guess, she would have done it to spite me rather than because she agreed with Athis. Njada shook her head.

"If you think this is unnecessary, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought," Njada hissed.

"Oh? Says you?" Athis demanded.

"Did you see what Aela did? That was her taking it easy."

"And the only way to fight a beast like that is to match its power!"

"So that's your solution? Sell your soul to Hircine?"

"If it means I can live, yes."

Njada growled. "I don't like this shifter business any more than you do, but you're being a godsdamned idiot. And somewhere deep inside that thick skull of yours, you realize it too."

"Let's see an idiot when they live another day," Athis scoffed, and turned back to walk towards Whiterun.

"This is a mistake. Even if you wanted the blood, you still need to learn how to fight," I warned him.

He glanced over his shoulder and said, "And why would I trust any of you to give me that information? It's not like you were honest before."

We remained stunned in silence as he walked off, not giving us another glance. The others said nothing. Not that there was anything more they could add. Njada and Ria made their stances clear earlier. Whatever respect they had for us dwindled, and it would continue to do so. It was stupid of me to pretend that tonight would help when everyone's trust was already frayed.

"Call it a night. The others will train you in my absence," I sighed.

Ria and Njada didn't wait to be told twice. The Circle lingered, as if sensing that I would give them further instruction. I wasn't ready for that yet.

"Torvar, stay behind for a moment," I called out.

He paused, but didn't turn to face me.

"It's important. Once we do this, you can go back to Jorrvaskr. I promise."

"Alright, I bite. Well, you know, even though I'm this close to breaking down."

"What are you doing?" Farkas asked.

"Teaching him an old trick. Aela, are you good to stay in your beast form for a while longer?"

She nodded, and I gave Torvar my instructions. "Draw your weapon and close your eyes. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, I want you to tell me. However, if you can tough it out, do so."

"I don't like the sound of…"

"Do what you're told," Vilkas growled, and any further protests died on Torvar's lips.

"Alright, alright. My eyes are closed and I'll shut up."

"I want you to pay attention to my every word. You won't like everything I say. Meet me halfway. If you're ready, I want you to focus on what scares you."

When Torvar's entire body stiffened, I added, "You're in a safe space, Torvar. No one's going to hurt you. So try it with me. Whatever torments you, focus on it."

He let out an uneasy laugh, but said nothing more, so I continued. "It hurts remembering it. Sometimes the pain keeps you up at night. Sometimes you block it out through anything. Drink, sex, violence, anything to fill in the void."

Torvar said nothing, though I saw his body shake, all the while old memories triggered for me as well. The image of that ugly back dragon still haunted me. Its screeching still echoed in the recesses of my mind. No one could have predicted such a thing happening during my near-execution. It shook me to my core, and no matter how much I tried to be better, I always ran away from it. Maybe I still was—but that wasn't important, not when I had to focus on Torvar.

"You were powerless when it happened because you could have never expected it. Nothing in your life would have prepared you for it, but that was then. Things were different, and so were you. You know what to expect from your enemy, and that is power."

He remained quiet, and I took it as a sign that he was absorbing my words. I wanted him to believe them, to regain a sense of himself. _If only I believed them too_ , I thought. No, that didn't matter. Torvar mattered most.

"It doesn't mean you're not scared. You can be scared. The important thing is that you carry on. It's in your hands to defeat it, and so you will. Strike your target, Torvar. Give it everything you have," I ordered.

Torvar grabbed his blade and took a deep breath, facing Aela with newfound determination. Aela readied herself for his strike, and Torvar delivered. Aela was still no match for him in beast form, but he held his own given the circumstances. A small smile played on my lips. In the middle of all the chaos and all the hurt, this was a silver lining. The work we did wouldn't fix his problems, neither did I expect it, but it was a nudge in the right direction, one that I hoped he took to heart.

"And that's good for tonight," I said, and the pair stopped their sparring. "Keep that fire in your heart. It won't get rid of what pains you, but it'll give you the strength to move forward, at least."

Though Torvar didn't smile, the tension on his face vanished. "That's… kinda helpful. Thanks," Torvar said.

"Don't mention it. Get some rest. I'll see you all in the morning."

"You should get some rest too. It's gonna be a long couple of weeks between this shit and the dragons," he said.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be able to handle myself."

Torvar nodded and returned to Jorrvaskr. He was the only one of the whelps to mention anything about my upcoming trip to High Hrothgar, or dealing with the dragons. It meant more than he would ever assume. It made me feel like at least one person outside of the Circle cared about my well-being despite our circumstances, though I didn't dwell on it for too long. The Circle expected my guidance.

Aela shifted back into her human form, and the twins joined her.

"Tonight didn't go as I hoped," I admitted, and Farkas frowned.

"We shouldn't have expected anything else while the hurt is so fresh," Aela said.

"Not like we have much of a choice. Doesn't matter if they like us or not, they need the training," Farkas said.

"But neither can we lose our tempers at them at every jab," Aela said, eying both Vilkas and I.

"Did you really think I would let an insult to Kodlak go unchecked?" Vilkas asked her.

I answered him before Aela could. "Regardless, it's time we come to terms that all of us were complicit, no matter how well-intended we were. The others will come to remember Kodlak's honor in time. I came around. They will too."

"You're right. I suppose our best bet is to keep up their training while you're gone?" Vilkas asked.

"That's all I'll ask of you."

"You still shouldn't be going to High Hrothgar alone. Let me come with you," Farkas said.

"I understand your concern, brother, and I appreciate it. Let's talk about this tomorrow. Torvar wasn't wrong about needing our rest."

"Before we do that, I'd like to talk to you alone, sister," Aela said.

"Of course. You two, go back to Jorrvaskr. We'll join you soon."

The twins walked back towards the city, leaving Aela and I alone. I had a suspicion about what she wanted to talk to me about. She was too quiet throughout Athis' outburst. An alarm sounded at the back of my mind, urging me to be cautious. If I wasn't, I risked turning another Companion away from me, and a Circle member, no less.

Aela, never one for idle chatter, jumped to the matter right away when she said, "The elf isn't wrong, Harbinger."

"Aela…"

"You claim you respect my choice to keep the blood, so you will hear me out, as your shield-sister and as your friend."

Aela's green eyes burned with determination. I never forgot how tenacious she could be. It was one thing I admired about her, even when I was a whelp. It also meant that she would not bend to anyone's will without a good enough reason, or a fight. Her respect for someone didn't hinder her from getting what she wanted. I let her talk. The more she revealed, even if it was implicit, the better.

"You're right. Go on," I said.

"Do you ever wonder if this isn't only your curse, but that it's a curse upon the Circle for turning against Hircine?" she asked.

"How so? Hircine still has you as a follower. Shouldn't that spare you?"

"I am bound to the Circle and you. I'm a casualty, not an exception. What's one good hunter gone to make a point about the others?"

Her argument didn't convince me, but I entertained it. "Fine. Let me play along with you for a moment. You assume that if we take the blood, we'll appease him."

"Not just that. If you and Eorlund are right, these are no ordinary shifters. They're armed, and they're organized. That's no small feat. If we all took the blood again, our chances of crushing them would double. Consider it, Anyaie. Eight shifters, four with experience, attacking against Hircine's children. And you would be at the helm. Hircine's chosen. A born hunter."

"No. Aela. I can't do that," I said.

"And why not?" she pressed. "Because you renounced it once? I can give you the gift again, with no problem."

"I made a vow that I would never let Hircine taint the Companions again. I have no intentions of dishonoring that."

"Yet look at where we stand. You saw the whelps for yourself tonight, unable to defend themselves. That nice talk might help Torvar for now, but do you think he'll remember those words when he comes face to face with a manbeast's jaw?"

"You're being cruel," I said, knowing that it was a bald-faced lie.

"I'm not being cruel. I'm being honest. You're not wrong about preparing the whelps, and I respect your foresight. But if we want to crush them, we need the blood. That is our best way of surviving."

"Don't you understand? If I do that, I wouldn't be able to reverse Hircine's curse for everyone. I can't offer that alternative if there's no way to get rid of it once we're done. If I subject my shield-siblings to that, I'm no better as Harbinger than Terrfyg was when he agreed to the Glenmoril Coven's pact hundreds of years ago. Our lycanthropy was supposed to be temporary, yet it became a generational curse. I won't begin a new cycle, not if I can help it."

This was the first time Aela and I ever openly expressed our disagreement on the matter of the blood. For months, I took a neutral enough stance, or what I considered neutral. When she refused to remove the blood, I warned her that she needed to remain cautious, and keep the matter discreet. I clarified that I wanted no one else taking the blood, and that the practice of initiating Circle members with the blood was done. She could still use the Underforge for her own purposes, but stated that I would not partake in her rituals. I also made it clear to the twins that whether they agreed with Aela's choice, they would respect her decision.

Like the idiot I was, I assumed that I garnered a semblance of peace—I didn't, and it was foolish for me to assume that this wouldn't be an issue again, or that Aela wouldn't one day express her discontent. It was my ill fortune that it would have to emerge in the middle of an already nightmarish situation.

"And what about you?" Aela asked.

"What about me?"

"You mean to tell me the blood doesn't tempt you at all?"

"No. Gods, Aela. No," I said, but I heard the way my voice wavered.

"Don't lie to me. I saw the way you were looking at me when I shifted. You might say it's dishonorable or hide behind a range of excuses, but a part of you craves the blood."

I wasn't sure if I should laugh, yell, or vomit. Aela was wrong. She had to be wrong. I didn't care for the power that came with the blood. Those days were over for me. No matter how strong, or how agile, or how fearsome the beast blood made me, it wasn't for me. My shield-sister was so desperate to find some way of convincing me to take the blood that she misread me. _But you never broke the curse_ , a small voice reminded me. _The blood might call to you after all._

I shook my head and said, "It doesn't have that sort of hold on me anymore. That was once, and it was a foolish mistake."

"Are you saying you regret our hunts, sister? The time that we spent as a pack?" she demanded.

Underneath the anger in her voice was hurt. To say I regretted it would be a lie. The hunt once united Aela and I, and we bonded through the blood. I didn't want Aela to use it as an opening to convince me that the blood wasn't all bad. I didn't enjoy undermining what brought us closer, but offending her was the lesser of two evils. Better to have her suffer than give her an opening.

Instead of shutting her down, I opted for a more tactful way of putting it. "That isn't what I meant. I'm saying I let the blood blind me, and I don't trust myself to take it on again."

"You've been in the twins' company for too long."

"Leave the twins out of this. Do you remember what you once told me about those that couldn't separate the animal from themselves? The ones who go feral? That was me."

"Yet you were able to stay at Jorrvaskr, interact with others, and transform at will. That isn't what going feral is, Anyaie. The problem is that you liked it too much, and you continue to like it."

My body trembled. All my earlier outrage vanished, and not from a lack of trying to hold on to it. Outrage was easier than remembering that Hircine said the blood would always call to me. Torvar wasn't the only one who was close to losing their mind. I was too. All the months I spent pretending that Hircine had no more of a say in my life were for nothing. The blood still called out to me. At the end of the day, I was still the monster I was months ago.

If Aela did sense my resolve weaken, she didn't push her argument further. Instead, she took a different route.

"I don't want to push you, sister," she started.

"Yes, you do," I breathed out.

Aela grimaced. "Maybe I do, but I can't say I regret it. We've lost too many, Anyaie. When I lost Skjor… when he died, it almost drove me mad, but he wasn't the only one. I carry the blood for the five shield-siblings I lost to the Silver Hand."

"Don't make it sound so magnanimous," I snapped. "You carry the blood because it calls to you, and it's a part of you."

"Like the way it calls you too."

Aela turned to leave. I assumed that was the end of the matter until I heard her take in a deep breath. _What is she doing now?_ I wondered.

"There's blood on the wind tonight. The perfect night for a hunt. There's a forgotten part of you that senses it too," she said.

I didn't have the strength to confirm or deny it. I didn't want to think about the way she was right, or how much of an ineffective Harbinger I was, or the thousand other ways I fucked up within a couple of months. As soon as I was back at Jorrvaskr, I downed some mead and went straight to bed. Fuck whatever I told Torvar. I was prepared for jack shit.

***

It was a busy day as I prepared to leave for High Hrothgar between helping Eorlund with the silver armor and getting my own things. There was little time to think about that horrible training session and my discussion with Aela. I knew those thoughts would resurface once I was alone on the road. It was better that way so I could process my thoughts without interruption.

Eorlund handed me the silver armor and said, "Try it on before you go."

I made quick work of putting it on, something that came with adventuring on my own for so long.

Farkas showed up and said, "Hey, I've been looking for you. I wanted to talk to you about… oh."

He stopped at the sight of me in silver armor, and a deep frown settled on his face. I grimaced. We both had the same idea. Eorlund was right; it was strange that the Companions would don silver armor, just like the Silver Hand before us. We became the hunters, and the hunted all at once. This was wrong.

"The armor is nice," he choked out, unable to tear his eyes away from the armor, like it disturbed him as much as it disturbed me.

"It's heavier than I thought," I answered.

"At least it fits. Take it off, lass, and finish preparing for your trip to the Greybeards," Eorlund urged.

"Give me a second and we'll talk," I promised Farkas.

Once I was back in my regular clothes, we walked to my quarters together. I could swear I felt the whelps' eyes on me as we walked past them. I sighed. Before Athis' comment, they wouldn't have given it a second glance.

As we walked down the corridor, I figured he wanted to talk about me going alone to High Hrothgar, though I suspected that wasn't all he wanted to discuss. Athis' insult forced his hand. No matter how true the Dunmer's jab was, his comment was inappropriate, and it wasn't fair. Under better circumstances, Farkas might have talked to me about this in his own time. _Maybe we can avoid the issue for at least a little while longer_ , I hoped. The prospect of talking about what he felt made me nervous. I hadn't even given myself a chance to think about how I would respond to him. But I was thrust into this situation, and although my heart felt like it was clawing its way up to my throat, I had to deal with it.

Farkas closed the door behind us, and we both took a seat. Before I could say anything he started talking. The start of our conversation was unexpected.

"You didn't tell them everything," he said.

"We've gone through this. There was only so much I could…"

"I should have spoken up," he cut in.

"Don't go down that…"

"No please. Everything is my fault too. I should have said something. I closed up, got scared, and then Athis…" he scratched his head. "Anyway, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's in the past. Besides, this has nothing to do with your actions and everything to do with mine."

"I still should have said something. If I can talk to…"

"No, and that's an order. Things are already bad enough. We don't need to go into every specific thing that happened. They learned the important parts, and that's all that counts."

"Doesn't that go against the whole point of being honest and telling them everything?"

"No. Everything means all the things I did to the Circle, not what you did. This is my burden, Farkas."

"That's not…"

"Please. Drop it. We don't need to rehash old problems when our new ones are bad enough."

Farkas' frown deepened. "I don't like this. It's not fair. You can't shoulder all of this alone."

"Hircine's curse is my responsibility, and so is this Dragonborn business."

"That doesn't mean you should tackle this by yourself. That means that one of us should come with you to High Hrothgar. I want that to be me."

The mood shifted again. I sensed he was going to bring it up, and I braced myself for it. Now that it was out in the open, I couldn't avoid it any longer. I prayed I had the right words for him, and that I could deal with this well.

Farkas leaned closer to me. His voice was so soft, yet determined as he said, "I don't know how else to tell you, but I care about you. A lot. I want to be there for you."

My heart dropped to my stomach as I realised that his confession didn't spark anything inside of me. His words brought me no joy. Instead, all I felt was the pangs of regret as I realized I didn't have those feelings for him.

"Farkas…" I stared, unsure of how to respond. I was out of my depth. This wasn't Hadvar. I tried to make sure Hadvar hated me before I crushed his heart. Farkas didn't, and that was what made his confession so excruciating.

"It's not because of Athis," he added, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I've, uh, felt something for you for a long time. I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but with everything that happened, and then Kodlak, I wasn't sure when it was the right time, so I kept putting it off."

I saw the hope on his face as he waited for me to tell him that I shared his feelings. It only made me feel worse. I should have felt something for him. Anyone would feel lucky to have a man like Farkas standing by their side, and I was about to ruin that for him. _This is exactly what I was trying to avoid_.

The hopefulness in his eyes vanished, replaced with confusion when I didn't say anything. I was still frozen, searching for the right words. My first instinct was to push him away, and act cruel towards him. It would be so much easier if he hated me— no, that was a lie. It would be even harder. I wouldn't let Farkas be another Hadvar. There was no man sweeter than the one sitting before me. He deserved better than a half-hearted, callous excuse. He needed to hear the truth.

It would hurt. It already hurt before I said anything. I gathered my courage, and reached out to touch his arm. "Farkas. I care about you. You are the kindest man I have ever met."

"But?" he prompted. His silvery blue eyes bore into mine, begging for an answer.

"I'm not sure I can give you what you want," I answered. I cursed myself. That wasn't sufficient. It still gave him hope when there was none.

"What's stopping you? If there's something we can work on…" he started.

"We can't. It's not...it won't work," I stammered out.

"Why not?" he asked.

 _Gods, how do I answer that properly?_ I wondered. All the excuses lined up in my head. I had the girls I needed to consider. It wasn't fair springing a new relationship on them in the midst of the chaos I was about to bring into their lives. Moreover, it wasn't fair for the Harbinger to start something with a Circle member during a crisis. With my role as Dragonborn, I couldn't afford to start something at all. There was no telling where my path would lead me, and I couldn't subject someone else to that. All those things were true, but they weren't the absolute truth. I recognized what was stopping me, and I hated myself for it.

"There's someone else," I blurted out.

Farkas' face fell, and he withdrew from me. He might have expected a rejection, but I don't think he was expecting that there would be someone else. _It gets worse when you consider who that other person is_ , a tiny voice sneered. I hated myself. I should have loved him when he was nothing but good to me. It wasn't as if I was sure about what I felt for… it wasn't that deep. It couldn't be. If it wasn't, why was I in this situation?

"Oh," he said.

An awkward silence fell between us.

"You been, uh, seeing him for a while?" he asked, his voice strained.

I let out a shaky laugh. "He's not aware that I have feelings for him, and it's better that way. For everyone's sake."

Before he questioned it, I added, "I can't give you half of my heart when you deserve all of someone's love and attention. I'm trying to do the right thing."

"Shame the right thing hurts so damn much."

"Farkas…"

"Did you ever feel something towards me?" he asked.

The question took me aback. I cared about him, more than he might have realized. We went through Oblivion together, and he held my hand through some hard times. His kindness was never unappreciated, or unnoticed. There was even a time when I considered acting on my attraction towards him, but something stopped me. I never examined what it was. I pushed it aside like I did with almost all the complicated things in my life. Instead, I concluded that it was too soon after Hadvar, or that I was too nervous to enter a relationship.

"I've always loved you, though I've never been in love with you," I admitted.

Those words were the final blow. He was desperate for some chance that I felt the same way at some point, any point throughout our relationship. The sadness on his face was immeasurable.

That confession sounded so cruel coming from my lips. That wasn't my intention, and I wished there was a way for me to want him the way he wanted me. _This is the only way forward. If I lead him on, we'll both end up getting hurt. I don't want that for either of us_ , I thought.

"I'm sorry," I said, but that couldn't cover how guilty I felt, or how much I hurt him.

Farkas shook his head. "Don't. You can't force yourself to love someone. I'm glad you were honest… well, I mean…"

"I understood," I assured him. I reached out to him again, but he withdrew away from me.

"Don't," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You mean well. But when you touch me…"

"Oh. Right." I cleared my throat. "I guess it'll do you good not having me around for a little while."

He frowned. "Well…"

"You'll need this space from me, Farkas. Take it. I can't do much to make this up to you, but I can do this."

"That still doesn't mean you should go alone. If you asked Vilkas, he'd go with you."

I shook my head. "I need to go alone. All of you need to stay here and keep a close watch on the others. I'm sorry. It's like I'm walking away from a burning house and hoping you'll take out the fire with a single bucket of water."

"Don't worry about us. We can handle the whelps. Make sure that you're okay and don't go to High Hrothgar alone."

That he was so caring even after I hurt him made it worse. As if he sensed what was on my mind, he added, "My feelings won't go away, Anyaie. Not overnight. I need my space, but it doesn't mean I don't care about you. You're still my shield-sister, and you're still my friend. I hope you remember that."

The tears stung my eyes. "Thank you. It's the same."

There was not much more either of us could say. Before he left, he kissed my cheek. It was a tender gesture, and an acknowledgment that he meant what he said earlier. No matter what our futures held, Farkas would remain a loyal friend. That didn't stop the physical ache in my chest as he walked out of my quarters. There was nothing more I wanted than to hug him and to take away the pain I caused him. My tears threatened to spill. It hurt me, but it hurt him more. _How have I fucked up yet another relationship in less than three days?_

Instead of reflecting on the Farkas, I distracted myself. There would be enough time on the road to High Hrothgar to really bring out the pain I inflicted. I stayed in my quarters for a bit, arranging all my belongings for the journey to High Hrothgar. Turning my attention to the more mundane aspects of the next few days helped me clear my thoughts.

There was a knock at my door, and I let Tilma into the room.

"It's getting late, dearie, and you haven't joined your shield-siblings for supper," Tilma said.

"What? It's supper?"

"An hour ago," she said, laying some food down on the table. My stomach growled at the scent of grilled leeks and venison. I needed to take a break.

"Oh. I got so caught up doing all this I didn't notice."

"And you have a lot on your mind. Why don't I leave you to it, unless there's something I can do for you?"

"Now that you mention it, there is something you can help me with."

"How can I help you?"

"Kodlak once told Vilkas that he knew everything that happened in the hall. I always figured that one of the Circle members said something. The more I thought about it, the more I remembered how Kodlak was aware about our daily lives for someone who was locked in his room. You were the one who told him that Vilkas refused to train me, weren't you?"

She smirked. "Smart girl."

I grinned. The old man had his tricks, and now I did too. "I need you to be my eyes again while I'm gone. It's not that I don't trust the Circle, but…"

"Tensions are running high. No one is thinking straight, and some whelps are not content. Don't worry. I understand."

Relief that she understood my needs flooded me. "Thank you. I've had so much on my mind today that I didn't ask you earlier."

"Would I be wrong if I assumed that some of that stress had to do with Farkas?" Tilma asked.

Her comment stunned me. _How did she know about that? Did he tell her something?_ I wondered. No matter—I didn't want to discuss this with her. The situation with Farkas was too fresh. The tears welled up in my eyes. I refused to cry over the hurt I caused, not until I was alone on my journey to High Hrothgar. I turned my back to Tilma as I stored some extra Septims with my supplies, giving me the chance to blink away my tears.

"Why would you assume that?" I asked, keeping my back to her.

"Because he didn't look like himself at supper. The others might not have been able to tell, but I raised those twins as if they were my own. So when I tell you I know something was bothering him tonight, I know what I'm talking about."

I shouldn't have questioned her. The twins told me that Tilma was like a mother to them. I could fool the others into thinking nothing happened between us, but Tilma was wiser than that. I also worried that she would try to talk to me on his behalf, or convince me that I should rethink my decision.

"I'm going to guess you suspected he had feelings for me," I said, gaining the courage to turn back to her.

"Of course I did. It was as clear as day. Anyone could see it, but I saw further than they did."

"What do you mean by that?"

"If you truly loved him the way he loved you, you would have already acted upon it."

"How are you so sure about that?" I asked

She let out a small laugh. "Oh my girl. I've come to know you so well in the time you've been here. You care about him, and you wouldn't want to give him any hope when there was none. Besides, Athis didn't give either of you a choice but to acknowledge it."

"No, he didn't. I did tell Farkas that I didn't return his love, but I don't feel any better for it."

"Not right now, but you will one day."

"It suits me fine," I lied, trying to downplay my pain. "As Harbinger I shouldn't even consider love, or what have you. My duty is to the Companions, and to my shield-siblings. Kodlak never needed a partner, so there's no reason for me to have one."

It was a lie, and that triggered something in Tilma. That determined look in her eyes told me she saw right through me and my excuses. If I assumed she was going to let that comment go by without saying anything, I was wrong. Tilma put her hands on her hips and eyed me with intent. For a woman who seemed so frail, she could be intimidating when she wanted to make a point. I felt like a child waiting for a mother to give them a scolding. _So much for being Harbinger._

"Oh for the love of Mara. Anyaie, my dear girl. My dear, sweet girl," Tilma said, emphasizing every word with care. "You don't have to be Kodlak. If there's someone you want as your partner, from within the Companions or outside of it, you should pursue it. And stop hiding behind your damned title. You're capable of being Harbinger _and_ being a woman with feelings. Start acting like it."

"But I…"

Tilma glowered at me, so I sighed and muttered, "You're right."

"Oh I know I am, dearie," Tilma said, her voice pure sugar. "Now be sure to eat your supper and get some rest. You have a long journey to High Hrothgar."

"I will. Thank you for everything."

"No need. Get your rest and consider what I said. I think you'll be all the better for it."

I gave her a weak smile and said, "I hope so."

As she left, I wondered if she saw the problem with her advice. I couldn't act on my feelings, not in this case. _Maybe the old woman isn't as observant as she gives herself credit for_ , I thought, and took a bite of the venison. Unless she knew about the reason I wouldn't act on my feelings. If she knew, then what if the others suspected and — no, it was too much. I nearly lost my appetite, until I decided I was reading too into her words.

***

Not long after Tilma left, I went to the yard. Although I lifted the curfew on using the yard at night, no one did. It was the perfect opportunity to clear my mind before I returned to my girls. I needed to be alone with my thoughts, with no one else offering their opinions on what I should or shouldn't be doing.

I gazed at the bow in my hands. It was a simple hunting bow, not the Daedric artefact I still had locked in the chest at Breezehome. When I told the others that ranged combat was their best bet for tackling shifters, I spoke from experience, both as the hunter and the hunted. Strange how even a simple bow could cause so many mixed feelings, with so many memories—no, I wouldn't let myself get caught up in those thoughts. I had to be as prepared as the whelps were, and that meant sharpening my archery skills again.

As if on instinct, my body assumed the correct stance. After all of Aela's training, it became second nature, even if I hadn't used it in a while. I nocked the arrow and aimed at the bullseye. I let the arrow loose, watching as it landed almost in the center. _Not bad for someone out of practice_ , I thought.

"I haven't seen you use a bow in ages."

My back stiffened. It was naïve to think I wouldn't have to face him after what happened with Farkas. Worse, Farkas probably told him why I couldn't return his feelings. It was something I never told Vilkas when we were in Rorikstead. Vilkas wouldn't let it go unanswered, no more than I would if it were my sibling.

I gathered my courage and said, "These are strange times. The advice I gave to the whelps applies to me as well, but you didn't find me to discuss archery, did you?"

"No, I didn't. I came to discuss my brother."

The conversation crept into dangerous territory. There were so many things I wasn't comfortable discussing, and this was one of them. If he pushed me enough, I would break, and there would be no fixing it. If I wanted to hold on to the Companions' tenuous unity, I couldn't afford to talk to him as my friend or whatever else we shared. I was the Harbinger, and he was my shield-sibling, just as we always were.

"What about him?" I asked, nocking another arrow.

"When we spoke in Rorikstead, I assumed you felt the same way as he did."

I aimed at the target again. "I never said that, brother."

"And you never said you had feelings for anyone else either."

"Who I have feelings for is none of your concern," I answered, keeping my aim steady.

"Do you mean you lied to me when you said that this was about your position as Harbinger?"

"No. Both what I told Farkas and what I told you are true."

"Then why won't you face me instead of cowering behind your training?" he demanded.

"Because I don't owe you an explanation when this is between your brother and me." The arrow zipped towards the target, hitting it right at the center. "And I'm not cowering behind my training. I don't understand why we need to have this conversation in the first place."

Vilkas let out a harsh laugh, and I gave up on target practice. Nothing else was going to happen while Vilkas wanted to rehash what happened between Farkas and me. Not that this was a conversation I wanted to have with him. The sooner I satisfied his prodding, the sooner I could go back to Breezehome. _And the longer I can hold on to my sanity._

"What do you want from me? Do you want to hear I'm sorry for hurting your brother? I am, but I'm not committing myself to him when I don't reciprocate his love in the way he wants. That's more honest than forcing myself to feel the same way," I said.

"And you didn't think you owed it to Farkas to tell him who this little crush of yours is?" Vilkas demanded.

There he was, standing before me, almost toe to toe, anger on his face that I dared to have affections for a man who wasn't his brother. _If only you understood how stupid that was_ , I mused. The irony of the situation was almost laughable.

"No. It changes nothing, and if you care about your brother, you'll drop it. Weren't you the one who said that you would both accept my decision no matter what I did? So why is it important now?"

Vilkas reddened as he realized that his actions didn't match his words. _Good, let him get a taste of his own medicine._ I wondered if Farkas put him up to this, but it hardly seemed in character for him. As I recalled Vilkas' merciless interrogation when he suspected I was the Dragonborn, I concluded that this was all Vilkas. The realization annoyed me to no end, especially when none of this was necessary.

"I would have understood it if it was a question of you being Harbinger, but that wasn't it and… wait. It's the damned ex-bard in Markarth, isn't it? That Yngvar fellow."

Yngvar and I? What a ridiculous idea! I almost laughed. And so I gave him an honest answer, "No. I've slept with Yngvar, but I had no attachment beyond what his cock gave me. Look, unless you want to start listing every man I've ever slept with, I suggest you drop the matter."

I thought that would get him to leave me be, but that didn't seem to help anything out. If anything, I could have sworn his face turned a deeper shade of red.

"Oh, so it's worse than that? Farkas told me about some man that broke your heart in River—"

I scowled. "Stop! Don't you dare go there."

He would not drag Hadvar into this. Whenever I thought of that night in Riverwood, all the guilt flooded back to me. The man deserved better, and I broke his heart. I didn't love him anymore, but my cruelness still haunted me. Sometimes, I thought about how badly I might have hurt him and what consequences that harbored for his future relationships. My callous words probably scarred him the way his did.

"I just...I don't understand you," he said.

I regained my composure for a moment as he paced. "What is there not to get? I told Farkas I wasn't interested. In fact, I thought you'd be glad that I was honest with him."

"Glad?" he asked while glaring at me, but his words lost some of their edge. For the first time since he started this useless argument, he seemed uneasy. "Why would you think I'm glad about any of this?"

"I don't know, Vilkas! Do you think I felt like rejecting your brother for sport? Just drop this and move on like Farkas and I will," I snapped.

Despite my warning, Vilkas wasn't done. "Is this what you always do?"

"What are you going on about now?"

"You shut down when you don't want to deal with something, and you don't let anyone in."

"Seriously? Are we going to go down this path?" I asked. My earlier composure started to vanish. He was dangerously close to hitting a truth, and I didn't like that. It wasn't a place I felt comfortable exploring, especially not at that moment.

As if he sensed my weakness, he asked, "Why do you push people away that care, Anyaie? Is it because you've had no one in your life to show you love before?"

"For shit's sake Vilkas…"

"Go on. Tell me I'm wrong," he challenged, his silvery blue eyes glowing underneath the light of the moons.

I wanted to scream at him and tell him that he didn't have the right to make those assumptions about me, but the words never escaped my lips. Instead, my eyes moistened, but he didn't notice. Not that he would care anyhow, not when he was in this state. I tried to gage what was on his mind, but I couldn't read him. There was anger and frustration there, but something else I couldn't pinpoint. _Why is he pushing this so hard?_

"Drop this right now," I threatened.

Unfortunately, Vilkas was relentless. "So you don't deny it? My brother loves you. He would give you the world. Couldn't you at least give him enough credit to be honest about who you have feelings for?" he asked. The anger washed away from his face, replaced with something else, another emotion I couldn't name.

"Why do you need to know so badly?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "What does it change?"

"Everything," he growled.

It would change everything. If I told him how I felt, everything I tried to do since Kodlak's passing would go to waste. Farkas would get hurt. Then I'd lose Vilkas too.

"Vilkas stop it now," I pleaded.

"No. We're not done yet."

He refused to back down. My knees were growing weak, shaking, threatening to give out on me. He needed to stop before the tears spilled. I wouldn't cry, not in front of him. I needed to be alone, in peace, away from him. Then I could cry.

"Please Vilkas," I begged, my voice coming out hoarse. That would have usually been enough to stop him. Couldn't he see I was about to fall apart on him? What was he trying to prove to me?

Much to my surprise, he stopped pacing and looked at me. It brought me back to our conversation in Rorikstead, that tension on his face as he told me about Farkas' feelings. No, it wasn't just tension. Something was tormenting him. For the first time since our argument started, I suspected this was not really about Farkas.

"So there's this man...whoever he is. Does he even know your feelings for him? Have you bothered to tell him?"

I shook my head.

VIlkas let out a terrible laugh. "Of course not. The poor bastard probably has no clue. You'll just string him along like the other men in your life until you decide you can't reciprocate his feelings. You're a coward."

Everything came crashing down me. After everything that happened the past few days, and Farkas' confession, I unravelled. The tears spilled, and a sob racked my body. I fucking hated crying, and the lack of control. Vilkas got his reaction, but he didn't care. He continued on about gods know what, as if he didn't notice the impact he had on me.

I tuned out Vilkas' ranting as Hadvar's words came crashing back at me. Vilkas wasn't wrong and I hated him for it. I was a coward. I loathed the way his words barbed at me, making me an emotional wreck, forcing me to face things I carefully tucked away in the back of my mind. Hadvar saw right through me. So did Vilkas. It was his accusations that forced me to come clean. Just like an arrow released from a bow, there was no turning back.

"It's you Vilkas! You're the one I have feelings for!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 All comments welcome.
> 
> Oh, and a small note. If anyone is still in the mood for a holiday piece, I wrote a companion piece to this fic with Hadvar and Anyaie. I've got one more chapter coming up this week, but it's a short little fluffy thing. I link it here in case you're interested: [The Last Holiday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352886).


	19. Promises and Potentials

"Wh-what?" Vilkas stammered.

For the first time since he confronted me, Vilkas was stunned into silence. His eyes widened as if I punched him in the gut, and his face blanched. I should have slowed down to consider his feelings, but I didn't care. His prying pushed me over the edge, and he brought this upon himself. If he didn't want to learn the truth, he should have never called me a coward.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear me the first time!" I snapped, the tears still streaming down my face. I tried brushing them away, as if he didn't already notice them.

He remained silent. I could see the wheels in his mind spinning as he struggled to think of the right way to answer me. I watched him, waiting for him to say something, anything. Those excruciating seconds of silence dragged on like hours. If he felt nothing towards me, fine then. But I needed him to talk. _Gods, this is infuriating. Is this how Farkas felt? Is this how Hadvar felt?_

"You're not thinking clearly. You've been through a lot and it's clouding your judgment . You need some rest," Vilkas urged, as if he wanted to desperately believe his own words.

"You spent all this time needling me so you could tell me to go the fuck to sleep?" I growled.

"No! No! I was… I was just concerned for Farkas," he explained.

The tears stopped, and the rage settled in. I couldn't resist the harsh and humorless laugh I let out. I wasn't an idiot. There was more. There had to be more. Vilkas cared about Farkas, but none of this was his concern. The entire conversation was unnecessary, unless he wanted something out of it.

"Farkas didn't give a fuck about who I had feelings for, so don't pretend this is about him. This is about _you_. Now that you got more than what you bargained for, you're not sure what to do with it," I said.

Vilkas' stoic silence was my confirmation. His silvery blue eyes burned in annoyance. I wanted to push his limits the way he did mine. If he was going to prod, so was I. I was entitled to answers, and I would get them.

"What were you hoping to gain from learning who I had feelings for?" I demanded.

"I don't know. A sense of closure for my bro—"

"Do _not_ give me that shit! I am about _this_ close to storming into your brother's room and asking if he put you up to this!" I snapped.

That was enough to call out his bluff.

"What? No! You don't need to do that. J-just let me explain," he sputtered. "We've been through a lot together. It's easy to confuse that for something else, especially right now when emotions are running so high. It's been a long couple of days. Get your rest and let this be."

Vilkas' persistence almost convinced me. The last couple of days were tiresome, and they drained me. There was a chance I wasn't thinking clearly, but it didn't feel that way. Everything made more sense to me than it had in awhile, and I couldn't ignore it.

I let him think that he had the upper hand when I said nothing. Just as he was about to walk away, I grabbed him and pinned him against the city wall. He would not get away from me, not after he brought me to this point. I couldn't control him returning my feelings or not, but he wouldn't try to convince me that this was nothing. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I wasn't shying away from my emotions.

"I am not confused. Far from it. I feel something for you," I said.

Vilkas remained still. He could overpower me and shove me right off if he wanted to, but he didn't. I thought he would seethe at my actions, but I was wrong. All I saw was pain. Something was gnawing at him from the inside-out, tearing at him the way that my feelings for him tore at me. That was when it dawned on me.

"What do you feel about me, Vilkas?" I asked, my voice softer.

"Anyaie…"

"Something changed between us in Markarth. You sensed it too, didn't you?"

"You saved my life in Markarth. You're confusing a near-death experience with something more," he said, avoiding my gaze.

I leaned my face in closer to his, and whispered, "Do you know how I know that's a lie?"

"How?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Because I've used that same bullshit line on my Riverwood man. It wasn't true then, it isn't true now."

"I'm not like you."

"You're more like me than you realize. It's why we push each other. I see right through you the way you do me, and that unsettles both of us."

Our lips were a hair's breadth apart. I traced my finger down his jaw, watching as the muscles tensed. The lust darkened his eyes. Vilkas stared down at my lips, but didn't make a move, though I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He wanted this as badly as I did.

"We can't do this. There are more reasons we shouldn't…" he started, but I pressed my finger to his lips.

"If you don't have those feelings for me, I'll leave you be. But no excuses. No more, for either of us. You're not a coward, Vilkas. I don't want to be one anymore either."

I don't know who made the first move, me or him, but it didn't matter. All I felt was my heart hammering against my chest as our lips met, and the burning desire that grew with each moment I spent in his embrace. His tongue parted my lips, rough, desperate, as if trying to seek more of me. Everything I tried so hard to repress, all the emotions I was so scared to allow myself to experience, flooded me.

My body acted on instinct, running my hands through his hair, tugging at it, hearing his breath hitch. Our kiss deepened, and Vilkas ran his hands down my body until he settled on my ass. I moaned into his mouth, surprised at how such a simple touch could set me off. If he wanted to take me there and then, I'd let him. I burned for him, and by the time our lips pulled away, I wanted—no, needed, more.

The guilt in his eyes was like a slap to the face. I wanted to be angry, shove him off, then scold him for kissing me if he wasn't sure about whatever this was. I'd have every right to be upset after how hard he pushed me, but it couldn't be like that. Neither of us needed anymore anger, or pushing, or prodding. It might have brought us to this point, but it wouldn't get us much further.

There was so much we had to discuss, and so much more we needed to say, but the words died on both of our lips. Vilkas brought me to his chest and held me close. I nuzzled into him, breathing in his scent. There was something musky, with an underlying note of sweetness. _I could get used to this_ , I thought. I don't know how long we stayed like that, silent, unmoving, until something wet hit the top of my head.

I pulled back to look at him, and I saw him redden in shame. I understood everything then. In his mind, he was a terrible brother for wanting me. Our kiss intensified his guilt. Combined with the stress we experienced over the last few days, it was enough to make anyone crack. But I didn't want this to be painful for him, and if he wanted to start something, I wanted him to come into it with a clear conscience.

"I've never been as torn as I am now," he said.

"I see it, and I hate that I'm putting you through this," I answered.

"You're not doing anything. I started this. I was so ready to be angry at this other man, and yet…" he flashed me a wry smile, though there was no joy in his eyes. The agony shone through as he said, "I just don't know what to do."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I want you," he admitted, running his thumb down my cheek. "I want this. Being around you feels right, even when I don't want it to. I've tried shutting down whatever feelings I have, but it doesn't work. And I don't want to do that anymore, but we can't continue without Farkas knowing. The timing, however, is less than ideal."

Vilkas was right; we couldn't move forward in good conscience without telling Farkas. We could deal with Aela and the others in time, but Farkas was important to both of us. I didn't regret having feelings for Vilkas. I couldn't control it anymore than I could control being Dragonborn. The thought of hurting Farkas stung, and I understood Vilkas' reluctance.

"I don't know what the Greybeards will expect from me once I'm back from High Hrothgar. I might be gone for days, or weeks even. Who knows at this point?"

"That's not all bad. We'll give him his space, then approach him. As for us, well," he frowned. "I wanted to come with you to High Hrothgar."

"Given the circumstances, you see how that might be counterproductive, right?" I asked.

"Aye, but I still don't like you going alone. You should take Farkas or Aela."

"I couldn't do that to Farkas. As for Aela, I don't think that's wise either. We fought about the blood. Nothing to worry about," I assured him, though this did nothing to convince him. "This is something I need to do on my own, Vilkas. If something like Markarth happened again, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

My stomach tightened at the memory of the Dwemer ruins. Although Markarth seemed so irrelevant compared to the dragons and the shifters, it was another instance of my poor judgment as Harbinger. There was no reason to bring him along with me, save that I wanted his company. I dragged him with me, promising it would be lucrative when he wanted to take on a job in the Rift. In retrospect, that job would have been much safer.

"We all know the risks. I understood them when I agreed to go with you to Markarth. It's a chance that we all take," Vilkas said.

"But that doesn't mean we need to take more risks than necessary. All of your lives are on the line because of me. I can't keep dragging you into matters that don't involve you."

"You didn't ask for Hircine's curse. I can't blame you for thinking that you ended it when you cured us of the blood. We all thought the same thing. We're bound to you, curse or not, because we're family. You're not just our Harbinger either. You're the Dragonborn. It would be our honor to assist you. It would be my honor," he said.

"And risk your life again?" I asked, grimacing.

"I risked my own life. Without you, though, I wouldn't have made it out of Nchuand-Zel," he said.

"Regardless. I need you at Jorrvaskr, Vilkas. Please. For my peace of mind," I insisted.

"I said I'd follow you and be at your side if you would need it. I'm dishonoring that promise by staying here," he confessed, deepening his frown.

"You're helping me by not coming to the Greybeards. Trust me."

He let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine. I'll stay here. Can I at least walk you back home?"

"I'd like that a lot."

We walked alongside each other, silent. My lips still tingled from our kiss. Vilkas wanted me. I wanted Vilkas. There was no hiding it from each other anymore. Despite the chaos from that day, it was liberating having that out in the open. I never expected that he would return my feelings either.

We stopped at my front door, and he took my hands in his. Something was still bothering him. I squeezed his hand and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I was so cruel to you before," he said.

"You were, and it was unwarranted," I said, and I saw the guilt flash on his face. "But I accept your apology. You were scared."

"And jealous," he confessed. It surprised me that he was willing to be so open, but then, things were changing between us. "The thought of you with another man… it was one thing when I thought you loved my brother. A part of me was relieved that you rejected him, and I hated myself for it. I still do. And I had no right to be jealous, but it burned me."

I let out a small laugh. "Do you think I was any better when I was being childish in Markarth when I thought you slept with one of Dibella's priestesses?"

"So you were jealous," he said, a smirk playing on his face. _Smug bastard. It would figure that he would be happy._

"Don't let it get to your head. I was a _little_ jealous…"

"You were more than a little jealous."

"And so were you a few minutes ago."

"So can we call it even?" he asked.

"On one condition—we communicate with each other from now on," I said, and the playfulness vanished. "I'm not saying any of this will be easy. I'm not good at opening up. I care about you, and I care about this. I'm willing to put the effort in for you, and for us," I said.

"So do I. We'll work on this together. We just have to tell my brother. That's the only way I'll be comfortable."

"Yes, but we need to make sure he's in a good place. Once he knows, we can tell Aela and the others," I assured him.

"After High Hrothgar?"

"After High Hrothgar. I'll be back before you know it."

"Be careful out there. It's not safe with those damned shifters out there."

"And it isn't safe with the dragons either. If you'd like, I'll write to you when I can. It's not the same as you coming with me, but it'll have to do," I said.

"I still don't like it, but who am I to argue with the Dragonborn?"

"The only reason you're saying that is because I used my Thu'um on you."

"Aye, and my ass was sore for a week," he said, a grin spreading on his face.

I smirked. "I'll make it up to you when I get back."

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I snorted. I was about to tease him about treating him to a candlelit dinner and to get his head out of the gutter, but the promise of something more fuelled my desire. If he were anybody else, I'd drag him to the nearest inn and make sure we both got what we wanted. No candlelight dinner necessary. Vilkas was different, though. He leaned in to kiss me, but stopped himself.

"We shouldn't be doing anything until we speak to Farkas, should we?" he asked.

"Not right now," I said, and kissed his cheek. "We can wait. I can wait."

We heard the doorknob twist, and we jumped back from each other. Sofie opened the door, hands on her hips. My cheeks heated, and I noticed Vilkas' turned red too. _We weren't doing anything, but it still felt like we were caught red handed._ Sofie didn't look like she saw anything suspicious. All she said was, "I told Lucia that you were outside, but she didn't listen, so she owes me five Septims. And hello Mister Vilkas."

"Hello again, Sofie," Vilkas said, his lips quirking into a grin.

Lucia popped up from behind Sofie, with Lydia right behind her.

"It's good to see you, Companion," Lydia greeted.

"It's good to see you, Lydia, and you too, Lucia," Vilkas said, smiling at my girls.

"Did you come to offer us sword lessons?" Lucia asked.

"Girls!" Lydia and I snapped but Vilkas chuckled.

He flashed them an apologetic look and answered, "It's a little late right now, girls. Have you two been practicing?"

"We have! The other day, I beat Braith! Lydia says I'm a natural," Lucia said, grinning. I smiled. It didn't take much to make the girls happy. The sturdy wooden swords I carved for them provided the girls with endless hours of entertainment. Lucia in particular enjoyed sparring, so I shouldn't have been so surprised that she'd needle Vilkas for lessons.

"And you?" Vilkas asked Sofie.

"I like playing with a sword, but I like magic more," Sofie said, shrugging. "Can you guess my favorite type of magic?"

"Illusion," Vilkas answered.

"Yeah! How did you guess?"

"Just a feeling," he said, and winked at her. Vilkas didn't interact with the girls that often, but something about seeing the way he was sweet with them brought me joy.

"It's getting late. Why don't you girls say goodbye to Mister Vilkas, go on inside, and I'll tuck you in as soon as I'm done with him?"

"Okay! Bye Mister Vilkas!" the girls said.

"Bye girls," he said, and he waved to Lydia as she ushered them to their room.

Vilkas turned to me now, a small smile still on his lips. "I'll let you be with your girls. You'll stop by Jorrvaskr before you go tomorrow?"

"I promise," I said.

"Good. Goodnight, Anyaie."

"Goodnight, Vilkas."

I had the overwhelming urge to kiss him before he left, but I didn't. Instead, I watched as he made his way towards the Wind District. Vilkas was right; the only way to make this work was to tell Farkas.

There were other issues that I had to deal with. Before I left tomorrow, I needed to make sure that my girls were protected. They were young, so they didn't need to know all the details, but I had to make sure they understood that they needed to be on guard. I tried shielding them from my life as Dragonborn and as a Companion. Both girls had already been through so much, and I hated that I would make their life unstable once more.

The girls were waiting for me in bed, both grinning, their faces so full of joy. I tried being home as much as I could, but sometimes the life of a Companion impeded that. They understood that what I did was important, and I loved them for it. That was going to collapse on them, and I resented that I didn't have the foresight to plan for this sooner.

"Mama, why aren't you smiling anymore?" Lucia asked, and this caught Sofie's attention too. Both girls looked at me, concern now filling their faces. They were too young.

I forced myself to smile. "I'm sorry, my loves, but there's been a lot on my mind."

"What's wrong?" Sofie asked.

"The dragons returned," I told them.

"What? So you mean what Lars was saying was true?" Lucia asked, and I nodded. "Okay, so does that mean you're going to fight dragons now?"

"I am," I answered, and both of their faces fell.

"Do you think you're going to die?" Sofie asked, the panic cracking her voice.

"Oh girls," I sighed, and took their small hands in mine. "Listen to me, both of you. You're both old enough to understand how dangerous this is. There is a chance I will die, but that doesn't mean I will. It's like any other job I take. This one just happens to involve dragons, and that's scary. It's very scary."

I watched as both of them took in my words, trying to make sense of them. I couldn't promise them I would make it back alive, but I wasn't ready to declare defeat either. There was no telling what the future held. They understood that, on some level. They were smart girls, but this was so unfair to them. Gods, it was selfish for me to adopt children. That's why the Divines… no, I didn't want to go down that path.

I couldn't assure them that I would return, but I could promise them something else. "But I'm going to do my best to come back home. I love you two more than you know."

"But what will happen to us if you die?" Lucia asked.

"You'll still have Lydia. You'll stay in Whiterun. If you wanted… well…" I sighed. "Jorrvaskr is an option. You have people who care about you in this world. If I'm gone, you won't go without."

"But we'll miss you," Sofie said, her blue eyes tearing.

"I don't want to lose another mama," Lucia added.

That broke me. I took both girls in my arms, holding them as tight as I could. Their tears dampened my clothes, and my own tears started streaming down my cheeks. This was too much for two girls. They already lost so much because of the war, and they now risked losing me because of the dragons—and the shifters. _How did I get myself in this mess?_ I wondered.

"I promise I will do my best to come back home to you," I cooed, all the while Sofie and Lucia sniffled.

"Promise?" Lucia asked, her dark eyes brimmed with tears.

"On all the Divines, I promise it. There's one more thing, girls, and this is just as important. Do you remember what I told you about talking to strangers?" I asked, and both girls nodded.

"Are the bad people back, Mama?" Sofie asked.

"They're not the same. Still, you need to keep your guard up. If anything happens, you use whatever means necessary to escape. You're both decent with a dagger, so keep one close to you. And Sofie, use your magic. There is no such thing as fighting dirty, understood?"

"Yes, Mama," both girls said.

"And stay close to Lydia at all times. Do you promise?"

"We promise," both girls echoed.

"Good. How about I tell you a bedtime story? What do you both want to hear?"

"I want to hear about how you slayed the dragon here," Sofie said, and Lucia nodded.

I resisted the urge to grimace. The girls liked when I told them about my adventures. They sometimes fought about which one I would tell. Lucia loved hearing of my battles, and Sofie wanted to learn about all the interesting places I had seen. Sometimes, they enjoyed listening to the usual bedtime stories, or the stupid things I made up. But for that night, they wanted to hear about the dragon in Whiterun. This was their way of being assured that I would come out of this adventure alive.

"A long time ago, when I first came to Whiterun, the Jarl needed my help to defeat a dragon. It scared me. I just started fighting, and the worst thing I ever encountered was bandits," I started.

They both looked surprised at this. For months, I told them that I was fearless and that I accepted the Jarl's offer, eager to prove myself to him. Now I told them the truth. Sometimes I would embellish the details by adding little things like my armor catching fire—fine, it nearly did. That night, I spared those details. It was a more honest recounting. The truth was that I half considered running away when Balgruuf and Irileth asked for my help. Even Farengar, the court wizard, seemed more eager than I was. My victory against the dragon was a proud moment, but it terrified me. The dragon solidified what Helgen had days earlier; my life had changed, and there was no going back to the way things used to be.

"Then there was a celebration when you defeated the dragon, right?" Sofie asked.

I shook my head. "There was, but there was something more important that happened that day. That was the day I learned I was the Dragonborn."

"So that's how that happened? You must have been so proud," Lucia gushed.

"You would think. It terrified me. Being Dragonborn is no small thing. I didn't think I could handle it. Even when the Jarl's men asked me to use my shout, I refused."

"Didn't you go see the Greybeards?"

I nodded, remembering how we parted ways. "I did, but I was…not nice with them. It wasn't wise of me, though. They're the only ones that can help me now."

"But why were you mean to them in the first place, Mama? The Greybeards are good," Sofie observed.

"Sometimes it's not as simple as good and bad. Even good people disagree on things. I was mean to them because I wasn't ready to be Dragonborn," I answered.

"What about now?"

I thought back to what my father told me years ago. _This world will demand your attention. Its weight will break you, and you will have no choice but to comply. Do you understand, girl? We don't choose what we are._ I finally had the right answer after all these years, wisdom I could impart on my own children.

"When you have a duty, you must honor it. We don't always choose our life or the circumstances we are born in, but we can make the best of it. You might not feel ready, but you have to do it anyway. You find the strength to do what you need to, especially when there are people counting on you, including the people you love. That's why I need to fight the dragons. Now sleep, my loves. I'll see you tomorrow before I go to High Hrothgar."

"Goodnight, Mama," Lucia said, giving me a tight hug.

"Goodnight," I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Just as I was about to hug Sofie, she looked at me and asked, "Mama?"

"Yes, snowberry?"

"If I pray, will Mara keep you safe?" she asked.

The words brought tears to my eyes. "It doesn't hurt to try."

"Okay. Goodnight Mama."

"Goodnight," I said, kissing her forehead before I closed the door behind me. My heart was heavy, threatening to sink down into my stomach like lead. _They shouldn't be going through this._

As I entered my room, I noticed that Lydia placed a hot cup of tea on my table. _This woman is too good to me_.

"If you don't mind me mentioning, my Thane, you look exhausted," Lydia observed.

"I am," I admitted, slumping into my seat. I grabbed the cup of tea, taking a small sip. It was a small comfort, one that I appreciated considering my circumstances.

"This isn't just about the dragons, is it?" Lydia asked. If anyone else had asked me that question, I might have considered it prying. I didn't for Lydia. I respected her intuitiveness, and her instincts made her the perfect choice look over my girls.

"It would be simpler if it was."

"Is it something with the Companions again?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Same group as last year?"

"Different, I think."

"Then I'll watch after the girls even more closely while you're gone. This is a lot to shoulder, but I'm sure your shield-siblings have been good to you."

A dark laugh escaped my lips. Lydia frowned, her hazel eyes clouded with concern. I didn't think I deserved that sort of worry or care, not after everything I had done.

"This situation is my fault, Lydia. They're less than pleased with me. I'm trying my best to make things right, but it's like I can't win. No matter what I do, I don't think I can ever be as good as Kodlak Whitemane was."

She put a hand on my shoulder. "That's not a fair comparison. Kodlak was Harbinger for years. It's only been a couple of months since his death, yet you've taken on the mantle. You still have a lot to learn. I would guess that Kodlak wasn't a perfect Harbinger either. He probably made mistakes too."

Lydia wasn't wrong. The decision to withhold the information about the beast blood didn't sit well with the whelps, and I was suffering for it. I didn't resent the old man for it. If it hadn't been for our new situation, I wouldn't have said anything either. Njada was right, though. It didn't make Kodlak any less complicit, well-intentioned or not. It was something I was still trying to come to grips with.

"He did, to an extent. Some of it is my mess. I'm worried that I won't be able to fix it."

"And? Why couldn't you? You've been Harbinger for months, and you've led the Companions to glory. That means something, my Thane," she said, and glared at me before I was going to insist she call me Anyaie. "Your shield-siblings will forgive you in time. It may not appear that way now, but I know it."

"How can you be so certain?" I asked. I wanted to believe her words more than anything, but from where I stood, everything was irreparable.

"I have faith in you, Anyaie," she said.

In a time when most of my shield-siblings lost faith in me, those words were just what I needed. I reached out to Lydia and hugged her. At least someone had faith in me. I couldn't stop the tears that spilled out, nor did I want to. It didn't matter that I spent most of my time adventuring or with my shield-siblings, Lydia remained loyal to me. She also always took good care of my girls. My housecarl—no, not just my housecarl, my friend—didn't know the nature of my troubles, but she was still willing to comfort me. It was more than I could have asked for.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"There's no need. I'm grabbing you a cloth. You're getting your nose drippings all over my clothes," she said.

I laughed, and Lydia vanished, only to return later with said cloth. She grinned and tossed it at me. Never did I think when we first started adventuring that we would become as close as we were. I promised that once I settled my issues, I had to reward Lydia. There was nothing this woman wouldn't do for my girls and I, and I remained forever grateful.

"Thank you. Not just for this," I said, holding up the snotty cloth. "I mean for everything. The cloth helps."

"Better the cloth than me," she teased.

"Oh that's a shame. I thought you enjoyed it when I cried."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. At least it seems like you have someone else who wouldn't mind your tears now."

I cocked my head. "What are you talking about?"

Lydia turned red. "Oh. I made an assumption. My apologies."

"I don't think I catch your meaning."

"Well, you and your shield-brother. The way you two were staring at each other, I assumed you pursued something with him."

"Oh Vilkas?" I asked, my cheeks turning red. "It's… complicated."

"Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"Does he like you?"

"Yes."

"Then it doesn't seem so…"

I held my hand up to stop her. "Don't finish that sentence. His twin confessed that he had feelings for me tonight. I just discovered that Vilkas has feelings for me, also tonight."

Lydia's eyes widened. "I wasn't expecting that. It's been a day, hasn't it?"

"You have no idea. I'd need something stronger than tea to get into all of it. Anyway, we can't pursue something in good faith if Farkas doesn't know about it."

"That's the honorable thing to do," Lydia noted.

"Apparently, it's the only honorable thing I've done in the last couple of days," I said, leaning back into my seat. "You know, I'll never understand why Kodlak chose me. I always think that the twins or Aela could have done it. Whatever his reasoning, it's my duty now. I have to make things right."

"You'll find a way," she assured me. "I know you will. For tonight, get your rest. The next however long is going to be hectic."

"Thank you, Lydia," I said.

"No need, Anyaie. Sleep well," she said, squeezing my shoulder on the way out.

A hint of a smile lingered on my face as Lydia walked out, leaving me with my own thoughts.

An old memory tugged at me. I went to my night table and drew in a breath. _Just get it out of your system._ I opened the drawer and pulled out a doll. A woman in Solitude named Mavda handcrafted the doll herself, and it showed. She fashioned the doll to look like a noblewoman, the thick straw hair tied into a braid, with a small crown, and an emerald green dress. Hadvar bought it as a gift for my first holiday in Skyrim. Those days in Solitude with Hadvar were good. They were lazy days, and we spent them enjoying each other's company.

I reflected on my childhood. My father wasn't a man who enjoyed celebrations. He might have been devout, but that was the extent of our holidays. He wasn't one for gift-giving either, and when he was, it was always something to help me with my alchemy or my restoration.

My mother followed much in the same suit until one exceptional year. I still remember that day, and the unparalleled happiness that filled my heart. All I wanted was to be like the other girls in my village. I didn't always want journals, spell tomes, or ingredients. Sometimes I wanted a doll and my mother, as if she understood that, bought me one. My father's face twisted in ire, but I didn't care. I had my doll, and I was happy.

That changed when I heard him tear into her. My father gave his usual argument: I was not a baby and toys were a distraction. My mother usually gave into my father's will because it wasn't worth arguing with such an obstinate man. It was one of the few times she pushed back. I thought hearing her defend me would please me. Finally, someone was standing up for me… I was wrong; her intervention only made me feel worse. The anger in my father's voice carried over as I walked back to my room, and so did my guilt. My mother didn't deserve such harsh treatment.

The next day, I put the doll on the night table near my mother's bed. I remember the surprise on her face as she asked why I put the doll in her room. I lied and told her it was stupid. If I said anything else, she would have suspected I overheard her argument with my father. So I let her believe that I didn't like it.

I sat on the edge of my bed, stroking the doll's hair. Hadvar and I caught me eying the toy at Mavda's store. The elderly woman wanted to sell it to me, but I was reluctant. She offered to put it aside. While I wanted to refuse, Hadvar accepted the offer on my behalf and later gifted me the doll. It was such a sweet thought, one that reminded me just how good of a man Hadvar was. It was one beautiful memory in an amazing week spent together.

The smile vanished from my face. Hadvar made it clear time and time again that he cared about me throughout our time together. In retrospect, that last trip to Solitude was when things changed. He fell in love with me then, and I fell in love with him too. It scared me, and I ran away from it. Vilkas wasn't wrong. I pushed people when they showed me affection. That was why I ignored the letter Hadvar sent me after the holidays. It was why I couldn't return his affection in Riverwood.

My eyes returned to the doll, and all of my lies came flooding back to me. Hadvar was right about so many things. What we had wasn't nothing. It was something, and it could have been something greater if I had given it a chance. Despite all the excuses I made, I hadn't confused shared pain for love. Our traumatic experience at Helgen brought us together, but it wasn't what kept us together. We grew to love each other, and those days in Solitude were proof of that. I ruined it.

I put the doll back in its drawer, tucking it away like an old memory. _As guilty as I feel for how we ended things, I don't miss him anymore_ , I observed. After Hadvar, I swore to myself I would never get so involved with anyone as I did with him. There was a time where it seemed like Farkas would have been the one to break that, yet it wasn't. Instead, it was the man who infuriated me from the moment I set foot in Jorrvaskr.

 _Vilkas and_ I, I mused, the smile on my face returning. I wouldn't have imagined it. The Divines must have a sense of humor.

***

I woke up that morning with a newfound sense of determination thanks to Lydia's encouragement. The Greybeards would have the answer to the dragon problem, which meant the only unknown was the Hircine matter. That was something I would think about on the road. There had to be a solution other than slaughtering a bunch of shifters, and I would figure it out.

The girls woke up, their small eyes filled with worry. A sad smile spread on my lips. They were good children. Both girls were so sweet and so caring in their own ways, and they were both talented. Wherever their paths would lead them, they would shine. I hoped that I would be alive along enough to see it.

"Come here, loves," I said, extending my arms out to them.

I bent down and held them tightly in my arms. The sobs wracked their small bodies, and the tears started flowing from my eyes too. _This isn't fair. They should have a mother who's there for them, yet all I do is risk my life._ That was the risk of being an adventurer, or a Companion. The Dragonborn business and the Hircine matter made it worse, and the possibility of death shifted towards becoming a tragic reality.

I pulled away from my two girls, keeping one hand on each of their shoulders, then wiped their tears away with my thumb.

"Remember. A promise is a promise. I will do my best to come back to you both, but you have to promise me you'll both take care of each other, and listen to Lydia. Can I count on you?" I asked.

Both girls nodded. "We promise."

"Good." I kissed both of their cheeks. "I love you."

"We love you too, Mama," both girls said, echoing each other.

Lydia was the one who walked me out of Breezehome. She tried keeping her expression neutral, but the worry on her face was clear too.

"I'll be okay," I told her.

She smiled. "I know you will. It doesn't make me any less worried. If you wanted to, we could make arrangements to go to High Hrothgar together. We'd find a way for the girls to be safe."

"I appreciate that, but this is a journey I need to take alone. Just take care of my girls, and yourself. If something should go awry, go to my shield-siblings. They won't deny you help," I said.

She nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Be well, Lydia."

"And you too, Anyaie."

I made my way to Jorrvaskr, where I found my shield-siblings at the banquet table. It was so silent, with the occasional sounds Vignar and Brill talking and Tilma's sweeping. Ria glared at me as soon as she noticed me coming in. _How am I going to make things right between us?_ Torvar waved at me, and Njada nodded at me in acknowledgment. _No Athis though. Odd._

For once, Vilkas was my saving grace in an otherwise awkward silence. He walked in from the yard, already in his armor. His dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his face was flushed. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a small smile. I noticed the dark circles that rimmed underneath his eyes, and I wondered if he had gotten any sleep last night.

"Training so soon?" I asked.

"It's never too early to train, Harbinger," he said.

"So it would seem. Where are Farkas and Aela?" I asked.

"I haven't seen them this morning, but I was up before everyone else. They must be around here somewhere."

"I'm guessing you haven't seen Athis either?"

"No. The elf's been acting strange, though. I'm not sure I like what that means."

"Neither do I. I don't like leaving like this. If I could stay…"

"Don't go there. We'll keep the others in line. Focus on getting to High Hrothgar safely."

Before I answered him, Farkas and Aela appeared together. Aela was her usual unfazed self, approaching us with all the confidence and grace of a predator. Meanwhile, Farkas' bloodshot eyes stood out against his pale skin. A pang of guilt hit me. Last night must have been rough on him. _And all I could do was think about Vilkas._ I wondered if Aela knew and wanted to approach me.

"Aela and I spoke, and we've decided that you're not going to High Hrothgar alone. Vilkas is coming with you," Farkas said.

"You _what_?" Vilkas and I asked at the same time.

"Yikes. That's not what we were aiming for."

We must have both had the same stunned look on our faces because Farkas added, "Come on, it won't be so bad. Vilkas still owes you for saving his skin back in Markarth. He's also the only person who makes sense. We need Aela here because she has the blood, the whelps need to train, and I, uh, well, you know..." Farkas let his voice trail off as he shuffled his feet, embarrassed.

Aela laid a hand on my shoulder. "We wouldn't usually overrule your judgment, sister, but Farkas and I thought it was for the best. This is too dangerous to take on alone. Whatever our differences, you know I respect you. So I ask that you do the right thing and take our brother with you."

"You can't pull Vilkas away like that," I objected. "He's the Master at Arms. The whelps need him, and so do you."

"This is nothing Farkas and I can't handle on our own," Aela assured me.

"Besides, you'll take good care of her, right?" Farkas asked, clapping Vilkas' shoulder.

"Of course I will, but are you sure this is wise?" he asked Farkas.

Farkas knitted his brows. "You were okay with it when we last spoke about it. Did something change?"

"Nothing changed," Vilkas lied, and I tried not to think of our kiss. We agreed that nothing else was going to happen between us until after High Hrothgar. Would he even feel comfortable being around me? Regardless of whether I thought Aela and Farkas were right (they weren't) they wouldn't let me leave High Hrothgar alone.

"Then you'll go with her," Aela insisted. "You two work well together. Don't waste time and get to High Hrothgar as soon as you can. May the gods watch over both of you."

"Hold on. That's not how a conversation works! Godsdamn it, Aela!" Vilkas called out, while Aela walked away, ignoring him.

"I don't think we have much of a choice, brother," I said.

Vilkas hmphed. "It appears not. Give me a few minutes to get my things in order."

"I'll cover you for potions. Be quick and I'll meet you at the gate."

Vilkas set off, and I had my chance to say goodbye to Farkas. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked.

"I should be asking you that."

"I'm not the one going to High Hrothgar."

"But after last night…"

He flashed me a sad smile. "It hurts, but it's nothing I won't heal from. Just stay safe out there, okay?"

"I will."

If I could have hugged him at that moment, I would have, but I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. Neither did I want to give him the wrong idea. There were so many things I wanted to tell him, and I wished I could apologize for all the pain I put him through, and the pain that he would go through if he knew that I had feelings for Vilkas.

"Take care of yourself too," I said.

"Don't you worry about me," he said, trying to keep the smile on his face, though it wavered.

"I do worry about you. There's a lot we all have to learn how to navigate. I haven't made things easy either."

"Don't brood. It makes you sound like my brother," he teased, and there was a spark of good humor in his voice.

I laughed, though it didn't quell my worries. He returned to being solemn as he said, "Really, Anyaie. I'm going to be okay. Go see the others and get going. You've got some dragons to fight off."

I nodded and joined up with the whelps. _Still no Athis_ , I noted.

"Leaving for High Hrothgar?" Njada asked, leaning back in her seat.

"I am. I figured it was time that I stopped running away from the dragons," I said.

I directed those words at Ria, and they caught her attention. She lost interest in her food. For a moment, I was sure that I caught a flicker of concern on her face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, and I was sure I imagined it. It was almost like fighting with a lover, trying to find a trace of hope or care in a situation that seemed so unsalvageable. _I miss our friendship._

"You got everything you need, right? All your potions and stuff?" Torvar asked, and I nodded.

"Good. Be careful on the way up there. Rumor has it that there's a nasty frost troll with a temper."

I snorted, remembering my first encounter with the frost troll. "I'll keep it in mind, Torvar. Thank you for your concern."

"Just make sure you don't kill yourself. I don't feel like having Vilkas or Aela as a Harbinger," Njada added.

"I'll do my best," I said, trying to suppress a laugh. "Stay well. All of you. Once I get back, we can tackle the shifter problem."

Njada and Torvar both said goodbye, but it wasn't their farewells that caught my attention.

"Good luck out there," Ria called out.

When I turned back, I caught a glimpse of my old friend, the one who always had my back. The hope bubbled inside of me. There was still a lot of hurt to sift through, and I had to work to rebuild that trust. Maybe Ria and I wouldn't be as close as we used to be, but we could make things work somehow.

"Thank you, sister. Good luck with your training," I said, and exited the mead hall more reassured than when I entered.

***

Thanks to Aela and Farkas' intervention, my last stop before I left Whiterun was Arcadia's Cauldron. The store had become something of a second home throughout my time in Whiterun. The girls' room took up the only space I had for an alchemy table, so I still crafted potions at her shop. Although I rarely looked back on my time in my village with any fondness, Arcadia's store reminded me of my parents'. It was sometimes nice to enter into a familiar space. It also helped that Arcadia was welcoming. When I entered, I found her talking to a young woman, who looked worried about something.

"I have an elixir to reduce blood flow. It's not guaranteed, that's the nature of the potion, but it should do the trick," the Imperial woman said, handing the young woman a red vial.

"Are there any side effects?" the young woman asked, concerned.

"Your stomach may cramp and you might feel fatigued at first, but it should go away. If there's anything, come see me right away."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Tell you what. How about 20 Septims? Is that fair?"

"More than," the woman said, putting the coins in Arcadia's hands. "Thank you so much. The war's hit my family hard and I think it's taking a toll on me."

Arcadia gave the woman a sympathetic nod. "Stress will do that. Be sure to take care of yourself. If you need anything, come and see me."

"I will!"

The young woman walked passed me, and Arcadia smiled at me. "Back so soon? I could have sworn I just saw you here yesterday."

I laughed. "I'm doubling up on my potions for my journey. My shield-brother's joining me."

"Same order as yesterday?"

"The same and add an extra health potion or two."

Arcadia rummaged around her supplies, gathering all the potions from yesterday.

"Sorry I didn't greet you as soon as you walked in. That poor girl's been under such duress that it's affecting her body. I remember when I first moved from Cyrodiil. I was so stressed that I skipped my cycle that month."

"Oh," I said, unsure of how to respond.

"It's such a pain when it happens, isn't it?" Arcadia said, laying out the restore health potions I needed.

"I guess so," I answered, hoping that we could steer the conversation back to potions. "You still have a vigorous health potion in stock, right?"

"Mhmm. It's right here somewhere. I'm surprised we're not out of stock with the war. Then again, there's that myth about potent health potions boosting fertility. You'd be surprised at how many young women try it out, with no success."

"I can only imagine," I said, my words clipped, but Arcadia was too distracted with her inventory to notice.

"And that should do the trick," she said, laying the final potion in front of me. "That will be the usual price. Did you need to make anything before you go?"

I pondered on it before answering. There was some time to spare, and I imagined Vilkas was double and triple-checking his supplies as Arcadia and I were speaking. "I could afford to make another potion to resist flame. You have the ingredients in stock, right?"

"One dragon tongue and some snowberries coming your way," she said, and I laid the right amount of gold on the counter.

She then handed me the ingredients when I was at the alchemy table. My hands set to the tasks that my mother trained me for long ago. Before I realized it, I found myself in a familiar rhythm. The earthy scent of flowers and fruit filled my nose as I ground the ingredients with a mortar and pestle. It brought back some not-so painful memories of home, and of my mother. _I wonder what she would have done if she were Dragonborn._ I was so lost in old memories that I didn't hear the door swing open.

"Greetings, Companion. What brings you to my store?" Arcadia asked.

_Did I take that long? Vilkas can't be done so soon._

"A healing potion. There's an ill farmer and Danica needs something potent."

I turned behind me to see Athis, whose contemptuous gaze met mine. _At least I didn't have to go chasing after him._

"I should have something extra in storage, give me a moment," Arcadia said, leaving Athis and I to deal with each other alone.

Not wanting to drag out the encounter any longer than it needed to be, I said, "I'm leaving for High Hrothgar today. I wanted to say goodbye to you before I left, but I didn't see you at Jorrvaskr."

"Goodbye then," he said, choosing to focus on a potion on Arcadia's counter instead.

Athis' dour attitude infuriated me to no end, and my blood boiled. I tried being sympathetic and patient with him. Anyone would be upset after they were attacked the way he was. I could even understand why he wanted to take the blood. However, there was a fine line between expressing anger and undermining my authority, and disrespecting me, at every turn.

"For fuck's sake, I'm trying to make things right," I growled.

"Are you? Because I don't see you offering what we both know will help."

"You're so infatuated with the…" Athis' brows shot up, and I caught myself before I could say the word. "What I mean that you're shutting out all other solutions. That sort of short-sightedness will tear us apart, and it already has. I wish you'd see how pigheaded you're being about this."

"Don't blame me. Your carelessness caused those shifters to come after us. It's not my fault you're not willing to do whatever it takes to save us!" he snapped.

Those words lit a fire inside of me. I refused to skulk away and let his words plant doubts. I was willing to do whatever it took for my shield-siblings. I would prove it to them as soon as I was back, maybe even sooner, if I was lucky.

"That's where you're wrong about me. I will fix this without the blood."

"Why? Is it because it's what Kodlak would do? You see how well that's worked out," he sneered.

"No, it's because it's what I think is best. I dragged us into this mess, and I will get us out my way, with the help of my shield-siblings. But first, I have dragons to take care of."

"Well, don't let me stop you."

Athis stepped aside and made a mocking, sweeping gesture towards the door. Whatever I said was lost on him. Instead of letting my temper overrule me, I said goodbye to Arcadia and made my way to Whiterun's gates, more determined than I was when I entered Arcadia's Cauldron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 All comments welcome.


	20. The Greybeards

It was early evening by the time Vilkas and I made it to Ivarstead, so we both decided to rest before we tackled the 7000 Steps. We entered The Vilemyr Inn, greeted by the heady scent of ale and freshly cooked meat. Ivarstead always brought about some old and uncomfortable feelings, but I loved the inn well enough. I almost considered it another home at some point. Then again, most inns were in my early days in Skyrim. The place was packed that night, an impressive feat considering how small Ivarstead was. _Then again, what else is there to do in a place like this?_

"Anyaie? By the Gods! Is that you?" someone called out.

Wilhelm, the innkeeper, flashed me a bright grin as he tended the bar. Vilkas and I made my way towards him, and he clasped my hands in his.

"In the flesh. It's good to see you again, Wilhelm," I said.

"Ah! And you, Companion. It's good to see both of you, though I never imagined I would have the honour of serving the Harbinger and a Companion in one night."

"You flatter us," I said, and Vilkas had a smug grin on his face.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Wilhelm," Vilkas said.

"How about some food and drink on the house?" Wilhelm suggested, though he didn't wait for an answer. He already set about getting us some free ale and the tavern's special. The older Nord grinned, handing us some cooked boar meat and baked potatoes. My stomach growled. It smelled delightful, and the meat looked so succulent.

"What brings you back to Ivarstead?" Wilhelm asked.

"Business with the Greybeards," I answered, taking a bite of the meat. _It tastes divine. Wilhelm's cooking is always amazing._

Wilhem nodded. "Are you accompanying her, Companion?"

"Aye."

Wilhelm grinned. "What a great honor it is having your Harbinger as the Dragonborn, and what a name you've made for yourself too, lass. You've come so far since you first came to this inn."

I flushed red at the compliment, though it didn't make me feel good. _I've done a lot, just not the way Wilhelm thinks._ Anyone would say that I accomplished many things since I first crossed the border, all of which I achieved on my merit. I was Thane of three of Skyrim's holds, the Dragonborn, and the Harbinger of the Companions. I didn't get there without hurting others, whether that was Sinding or my shield-siblings. Now my girls risked losing their mother. What seemed so honorable to anyone on the outside didn't seem so noble from where I stood.

Wilhelm distracted me from those thoughts when he mentioned, "I suppose you two will want to rent a room for the night?"

"That's a good guess," I said, smirking despite myself.

The innkeeper let out a hearty laugh. "If that's what you want to call it. Unfortunately, it appears we only have one room tonight. You will have to share a bed with your shield-brother."

Vilkas and I looked at each other. Though he kept his face neutral, the panic flashed in his eyes, and I was sure my eyes mirrored his. We promised we wouldn't do anything intimate until we spoke to Farkas. How were we supposed to do that if we were in such close proximity to each other? We remained professional, cordial even, on the way to Ivarstead. _But we focused on riding. What if we're both tempted with no distractions?_

Wilhelm broke into our silence. "If that's a problem, I can make other arrangements."

"Oh, no. Please. That's just fine," I squeaked out, and Vilkas nodded.

"Aye. I'll sleep on the floor. We packed bedrolls," Vilkas assured him, though I heard the nervousness in his voice.

"Thank you for your understanding. In fact, take the room for free."

"You don't have to do that," I insisted, but Wilhelm raised a hand to stop me.

"I know, but you've both done a great deal for Skyrim. Consider it a thank you and a bit of comfort before you two head to High Hrothgar tomorrow. Enjoy the warmth while you can," Wilhelm said, then left to deal with another patron.

Vilkas and I remained at the tavern in an awkward silence, unwilling to acknowledge that we would share a room with each other. _This is ridiculous._ _We've shared tents together before. By the Nine, we've both seen each other naked. Those were necessities, and this is no different._ It was different, though. We hadn't been in the situation we were in now.

"Do you want to get ready for bed first?" he asked.

"Uh, I do. I'll see you in our room?" I asked.

"Aye. See you there."

Once I stored our belongings in our room, I readied myself for bed. _Should I pretend to be asleep when he walks in?_ I considered it, then scoffed at the idea. It wasn't like either of us had no self-restraint. Besides, there were other issues to focus on, like the Greybeards.

 _The Greybeards._ The recollections I had of them followed me as I made my way to bed. Tomorrow would be a difficult meeting. It might consist of me grovelling to them, placating them after losing my way. Whatever I felt back then, I was rude to them. It was brash of me to leave High Hrothgar with such bitterness in my heart. I should have known it would come back to bite me in the ass.

 _There must be a way to avoid dealing with them. They can't be the only ones in Skyrim who know anything about dragons._ However true that was, it didn't stop them from being my only option at that moment. Throughout the ride to Ivarstead, every growl or hiss had me anxious. At any moment, another dragon could emerge and I needed to be prepared. Rorikstead couldn't happen again. The Greybeards were my best chance at fixing things, whether or not I liked them. If I had to plead my case, so be it.

 _I should sleep anyhow_ , I thought, and closed my eyes, until an unwelcome thought emerged. _What if tomorrow doesn't go well and they refuse me because of my pride? What will I do then?_ My eyes were wide open as I stared up at the ceiling, the anxiety gripping me like a noose. If the Greybeards wouldn't help me, who would? My breathing was shallow, rapid. _If I can't get help, then I will be responsible for so much more death._ The room grew smaller, smaller, and smaller while my sense of impending failure grew, plaguing me, beguiling me at every turn. Memories of Helgen intruded my thoughts. The burning flesh, the screams, and the destruction flooded my mind. _Not again._

I didn't hear the door creak open, though I heard Vilkas say, "Don't make fun of me, but I forgot to pack my bedroll so I'm borrowing yours. And… Ysmir's beard!"

I knew Vilkas was there, sitting right in front of me, but I didn't see him. All I could see flashing in front of me was Helgen and that terrible black dragon. What if there was an attack overnight in another hold and I wasn't there? How would a small settlement like Rorikstead have defended themselves if Vilkas and I hadn't shown up? The meat churned in my stomach, reminding me of the burning flesh.

"I'm here," he said. His voice was so gentle, and he linked our hands together. His touch grounded me, reminding me I was still at the Vilemyr Inn. The panic ebbed a little, yet it was still present, threatening to consume me.

"Do you want me to hold you?" he asked.

I nodded and he brought me into his arms. My breathing steadied, though my heart was still trying to tear its way out of my chest. Vilkas whispered soothing words, repeating that he was there, that he wouldn't leave, and that whatever I needed he would do. They became a mantra. My eyes fluttered closed as I breathed in his scent. _Not fire, not burning flesh. He smells of him. Like pinewood._ I never noticed that I was trembling until he ran his hands down my back. I leaned my head on his shoulder, taking in his touches, willing myself to let my mind leave Helgen.

"Tell me what else you need," he whispered.

"Distract me. Tell me something. Anything," I pleaded.

"Anything at all?"

"Anything."

"Hmm… have you ever been to Shadowgreen Cavern?"

I shook my head.

"There's a cave up in Solitude; a hidden gem. I found it a couple of years ago when I was on a job for an old beggar in Solitude. Poor man fought in the war and lost his helmet. I tracked it down to the cavern, expecting the usual dank cave. I was in for a pleasant surprise."

"What did you find?" I asked.

"Greenery. Lots and lots of greenery. Lush trees, bushes full of snowberries, and mountain flowers. The water was so blue, almost like frost salts. It was so tranquil," he said, still whispering in my ear.

I closed my eyes and pictured the cavern. There were a few hidden gems like Shadowgreen Cavern in Skyrim. Bloated Man's Grotto had been one of them, though I had too many memories for me to think of it as anything less than traumatic. In comparison, Vilkas' cave sounded so serene. _I could use some of that right now._

"Did you find the helmet?" I asked.

"Aye. Not without a bit of a fight from the Spriggans, but that's not important. The best part was the stillness that came after those battles. Few places in Skyrim are as peaceful, or as lovely. Every time I go to Solitude, I stop by there. It clears my head, and it grounds me."

"Do you think we could go there one day?" I asked.

He let out a small chuckle. "Why do you think I brought it up? Maybe once things calm down."

"I'd love that."

Vilkas kissed the top of my head, the warmth spreading right through me. We both grew quiet. My heart stilled and my breathing was back to normal. I pulled away from him, a shaky smile on my face. He cupped my face in his hands.

"How are you right now?" he asked.

"Better. Thank you for being here."

"There's no need for a thank you. You're carrying a lot on your shoulders. How you've kept it together is impressive."

I yawned before I could answer him. The panic didn't grip me as often as it used to, but when it did, it drained me. It was almost like fighting a battle with none of the physical effort. _It is a battle in some ways,_ I think. I slumped back into Vilkas' arms, closing my eyes.

"Get your rest. We have quite a trek tomorrow," he said, untangling himself from me.

I nodded, letting out another yawn. "Don't sleep on the floor."

His blue eyes flashed with concern. "Are you asking me to share the bed with you?"

"Yes," I answered, weary. If he would not argue with me so we could get to sleep, that would be lovely.

"I don't want to deny you, but I don't think that's wise."

"Vilkas." I yawned again. "We're going to share a bed at some point. Don't be stubborn. It's much more comfortable here than on a bedroll."

He nodded, and he laid down next to me. I turned to face him and flashed him a sleepy smile.

"For what it's worth, this was not what I pictured would happen the first time we would sleep together," Vilkas said.

I chuckled. "It's okay like this too. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Anyaie."

I turned on my side, my back facing to him, falling asleep within seconds. When I woke up in the morning, I felt breath tickling my neck, and an arm wrapped around my waist. Vilkas held me close to him, still soundly asleep. When I turned to face him, a small smile graced my lips at seeing him so peaceful. Once I fell back into slumber, I dreamed of a cavern filled with flowers and deep blue water.

***

"I swear. If another ice wolf crosses our path, I won't hesitate to project it off the cliff with my Thu'um," I grumbled.

We made it past the second wayshrine, Vilkas and I both contemplating a time when men didn't have the voice. Let me correct that—we were _trying_ to contemplate it, but several wolf attacks interrupted us every step of the way. _It's hard to act pious when you have an ice wolf trying to make you your next dinner. Were there this many wolves when I was doing this regularly?_ Not to mention it was so damned cold, despite the fact I was swaddled like a newborn.

Things settled down as we made it to the third wayshrine. It appeared there were no more wolves, but it didn't ebb my irritation. With each wayshrine we passed, Vilkas and I were closer to reaching the Greybeards. Though Vilkas helped me with my anxiety the night before, he didn't ease all of my nerves. He couldn't have.

We stopped to read the third stone tablet together.

_The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times;_

_Unafraid to war with Dragons and their voices;_

_But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts._

At least someone was unafraid to war with the dragons. Divines knew that wasn't me.

It was a bright day, the snow glistening underneath the light of the Nirn. When there weren't wolves or sabre cats interfering, the trek up to High Hrothgar could be peaceful. That time should have been spent in contemplation, but I didn't have it in me.

"You're quieter than usual," Vilkas noted.

"Just thinking about the Greybeards," I answered.

"What about them?"

"It's not about them, per se. It's about how I acted with them the last time I was here."

"You left on bad terms?"

"Very," I admitted, and I felt Vilkas' inquisitive gaze upon me. There was no sense in hiding it from him, so I explained. "I answered the Greybeards' summons within days, and they took me on as Dragonborn. It was fine at first. They insisted I learn how to harness my Thu'um, and they sent me out to find word walls. Between that, taking on odd jobs, and fighting dragons, I had my work cut out for me. But no matter what happened, I always made my way back to High Hrothgar."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It was, and I did it for a few months. Back and forth, back and forth. Dragons, then job, then High Hrothgar. Rinse and repeat. I was exhausted, not just physically. It drained me mentally and emotionally. The Greybeards weren't much for support either. They were training the Dragonborn. There was no time for niceties.

Those were busy days, and they took a lot out of me. I was still so new to adventuring, so inexperienced with a blade. Though Hadvar, my Riverwood man as you call him, taught me the basics, every job was a trial by fire. There was no guarantee I would live to see the next day, and I had to learn how to fight quickly. Duress, they say, is the greatest teacher. It doesn't mean it doesn't demand a lot out of you."

"Is that what soured your relationship with them?" Vilkas asked.

"No. I could have handled everything they threw at me if it wasn't for their… secrecy, is the only word I can think of."

"Secrecy?"

"Yes. I would ask what my purpose was, and why the dragons returned, and they would tell me nothing. I kept pressing for answers with little success, and the answer was that I would have to be formally recognized as Dovahkiin before they could tell me more. And as I received no answers, I grew impatient and resentful. That was when I snapped. I told them I didn't want to be the Dragonborn, and that I had enough of them and their half-answers."

The resentment came back to me, fresh as the wounds in my early days of combat. The things I had to do to retrieve the Words of Power nearly killed me several times. Sometimes I wasn't lucky enough to have a helpful companion. The times I did, Lydia was gracious enough to come with me. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have survived. The Greybeards claimed it was my training. Difficult or not, I would face much worse if I didn't pull myself together. So, no matter how tiresome, I did what I was told.

That wasn't what tore at me, though. Day in and day out, I risked my life for the people of Skyrim, and not just for the sake of training. I doubted myself more times than I care to remember, yet I pushed on. For the nights I lay awake wondering why the Divines chose me and what my purpose was, all I received was stony silence as the Greybeards sat on their mountain. No matter how justified my anger was, it didn't make it right.

I stopped walking and turned to him. "It was selfish of me."

"Perhaps, but you weren't wrong to feel frustrated and exhausted."

"Feelings aren't important, not when the fate of others rests on your shoulders. No matter how scared or exhausted I was, I should have pushed on."

"The important thing is that you're doing right now."

"I suppose so."

I hoped that wanting to make it right was enough. If I had to prove myself to them again, I would do it. Still, it shouldn't erase whatever else I did. At least, that's what I told myself as I continued making my way up the steps.

"Is that what made you so anxious last night?" he asked.

"It was."

It was a painful night, though Vilkas made it easier by keeping me in his arms. It was so chaste, so innocent compared to what I was used to with other men. Hadvar was an exception, and the only other man who had been so tender with me was Farkas, who had literally held my hand in trying moments. I never thought that Vilkas' presence could be so warm and comforting. Then again, was it because I had never seen it or because I was unwilling to see it?

"I think I said thank you last night, but in case I didn't, thank you. And I promise I won't make fun of you for not packing a bedroll," I added.

"A decision I regret. You snore," he added, a smirk on his face.

"Liar. I had to wake up to your morning breath. Are you sure you gave up your beast form?"

Vilkas snorted. "And yet you've willingly stuck your tongue in my mouth."

"A lapse in judgment. You still smell," I said, smiling despite my nerves.

"And you still snore."

We both laughed, listening to ourselves sound ridiculous together. It helped ease my nerves a little, and it made the journey more pleasant. I recalled how often I did this alone, with the harsh winds being my only company. No matter how weary I was, I never minded the solitude. But, having someone with me made it easier, especially when that someone had a way of bringing out the worst, and best, in me.

Although our conversation waned from time to time, it was enough to keep us both going to High Hrothgar. We reached the Greybeard's temple by mid-morning, our legs aching as we turned away from the last stone tablet and climbed up the stairs to the monastery's entrance.

The monastery itself was tall, almost like it reached up to the sky. When I first arrived all those months ago, I was awestruck and nervous from the sight. Who was I to receive such a summoning? The nerves returned once more, albeit under different circumstances.

When we reached the door of the monastery, Vilkas asked, "Ready?"

"As ready as I could ever be."

I pushed the door open, entering the stony silence of High Hrothgar. Although we were inside, my teeth chattered. I forgot how cold it was, or how disconcerting the quietude could be. The disconnect with the rest of the world and the stone-faced expressions of the men who lived within didn't inspire any warm feelings. One of those very men appeared, not looking surprised to see me.

"Master Arngeir," I said, bowing my head in acknowledgement.

"And so, the Dragonborn seeks our guidance after all," the Greybeard said, his stern grey eyes examining me before turning to Vilkas. "And who is this?"

"Vilkas Whitemane of the Companions. It is an honor to meet you, Master," Vilkas said, bowing.

"Interesting. I take it he's your shield-sibling?" Arngeir asked me.

"He is."

"So you've joined the Companions. It seems to me you've been very busy," the Greybeard noted, not without a hint of sourness in his voice. It grated on me, but I couldn't afford to be bitter.

"I have, and in doing so, I neglected my duty," I admitted.

"You claimed you wanted nothing to do with us or being Dragonborn. Why have you sought our guidance now?"

"Because the dragons have returned once again," I answered. "Surely even from up here, you know this."

"And? When the dragons were present the first time, you still ran away. How do we know you won't do this a second time?" the Greybeard asked.

It was a fair question, and I still felt like running back down the 7000 Steps and pretending that this never happened. But I wouldn't be self-absorbed enough to do that a second time. Inaction almost cost the people of Rorikstead dearly. People died at Helgen, and somehow, I was connected to it. No one else would suffer on my vigil, or at least, not if I had anything to say about it.

"Master," I said in earnest, "I understand I've shaken your trust in me, but the people of Skyrim need me. You and your brothers are the only ones who can guide me through this. Now more than ever, I need that guidance."

Arngeir remained stoic. The panic bubbled again. This was not going to plan. I expected that returning would be enough of a peace offering. _I should have prepared better._ But I realized those weren't the words that the Greybeard needed to hear.

"And… I am sorry for my arrogance. I acted out of my fear, and I treated you cruelly," I admitted.

"You cannot afford to let your fear rule you anymore," Arngeir said, but the words lost their edge.

"I see that now. If you give me a chance, I can prove myself. Please, Arngeir. Not just for me, but for Skyrim," I pleaded.

"It's not for me to decide, but for our leader, Paarthurnax. Remain here and I will take the matter to him."

"Are you sure? I can speak to him myself and make my case."

"No. When the time comes that our leader wants to see you, he will summon you. For now, stay put. Make yourselves comfortable"

Arngeir exited to the courtyard, leaving Vilkas and I to ourselves. He cocked his head at me, as if asking if I was okay, and I nodded. It was easier not talking, not letting him know I was ready to hurl if the Greybeards weren't willing to help. All those thoughts from last night resurfaced. Arngeir had to accept my apology.

"You heard Master Arngeir," Vilkas said. "We don't know how long he'll be with their leader. We shouldn't just wait by the door. Let's settle in for a bit."

One of the benefits of visiting High Hrothgar so often was that I knew where everything was, including their food. The Greybeards were simple folks, limiting themselves to the bare necessities. Meals were bland. The Greybeards were dedicated to detaching themselves from the world in every way. Vilkas and I settled for some bread and cheese, though I wished that there was some strong ale to pair with them. Truth be told, I had no appetite anyhow, and I forced myself to eat.

"Hmm. The bread is a little stale," Vilkas remarked, putting the bread down.

I laughed. "Every time I'd have something that wasn't bland or stale, it was because I snuck it from the inn."

"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you hoped that this would be quick like I did."

Vilkas laid a hand on my shoulder. "Master Arngeir will be back soon. You said the right thing. I have faith that the Greybeards will accept your apology. The situation seems too dire for pride to get in the way."

"It was always dire."

We heard footsteps coming towards us and we pulled away from each other. Arngeir returned. I hoped his face would give something away about how the conversation went. There was nothing there apart from his usual reserved demeanor.

"Our master has decided that you are not only worthy of a second chance, but that you're needed. But first, you need to prove yourself to us, and perhaps we can formally recognize you as Dovahkiin," Arngeir said.

I didn't relish the prospect of going on another errand before the Greybeards offered their help once more, but I had little choice on the matter. Still, there was something that bothered me. Vilkas and I shared a look. If we were going to delay on discovering the source of the dragon attacks, we needed to understand why dragons were appearing again in the first place.

"You do not seem pleased by this idea, Dovahkiin," Arngeir remarked.

"Don't misunderstand me, Master Arngeir. I _am_ pleased that I have an opportunity to redeem myself. My concern, and my shield-brother's, is that delaying will make the problem worse," I answered.

Vilkas nodded. "Aye. It would be one thing if the dragons vanished, never to return again, but…"

"The dragons never vanished, Companion," Arngeir interrupted. "Just because there have been no reports, it doesn't mean they haven't been present. You must understand that once the dragons awaken, nothing can stop them. This is the Dovahkiin's fate."

Arngeir softened his tone and looked at me. "I understand you're eager to right your wrongs, but this is a part of your rite of passage."

Vilkas said nothing, though his stony expression told me he was none too pleased at the prospect of taking more time away from finding out more about the dragons. It felt like a waste of time when we could be dealing with the dragons head-on. Still, I needed all the help I could get from the Greybeards. If that meant retrieving the horn and coming back to High Hrothgar, I would do that.

"Thank you, Master, for the opportunity. My shield-brother and I won't fail you," I assured him.

"Good. If you would both like, you're welcome to stay here for tonight. I don't imagine that going down those steps another time will do either of you good. In fact, Dovahkiin, we can see how you've progressed with your Thu'um. Follow me to the courtyard."

We exited the monastery and returned outside. The courtyard was as I remembered it; freezing cold. My teeth chattered. _On second thought, I prefer the monastery_ , I thought, my teeth still rattling as I fixed my scarf. My eyes wandered to the gates at the far end of the courtyard. I always wondered where it led to, though I learned early on that many of my questions would be met with half-answers, so I never bothered asking.

Arngeir called out to his brothers, gaining their attention. I made out bits and pieces of what he said, though the gist was that I returned. If the others were at all happy or angry about my return, there was no way of telling. _They're even worse than Vilkas during one of his moods_ , I thought, and then conceded. _At least with Vilkas you can tell he's in a mood to begin with._

"Tell me, Dovahkiin, what shouts have you learned since you left our stead?" Arngeir asked.

"I learned a few new ones, and finished off some old ones too," I answered, and listed a few of the shouts I learned.

"You seem to have kept up with your training and put your Thu'um to good use. We will return to basics today. Show me the extent of your Unrelenting Force by opening the training gate." Arngeir turned to Vilkas and added, "I suggest you move away."

Vilkas smirked. "Trust me, I'm well aware of her Thu'um's power."

Before Arngeir could make a comment, I walked to the smaller iron gate. The Greybeards once made me use the gate to illustrate my knowledge of Whirlwind Sprint. Although the gate was smaller than the one leading up the mountain path, it was sturdy; it had to be by design. Although I was used to using my Thu'um on command, it was so strange needing to do it for an audience.

"Picture that one time I really upset you," Vilkas said.

"Which time would that be?" I asked, keeping my voice sweet.

"You know which time."

I chuckled and turned my attention to the gate. That familiar itch built in my throat, and a smirk came on my face. Say whatever you want about the Greybeards and High Hrothgar, but this was the one place I never had to be wary of using the full extent of my Thu'um. The words left my lips, and the gate flung open, nearly coming undone at the impact of my shout. Then all was silence once more.

I turned to the Greybeards, and said, "I can fix that."

Vilkas covered his laugh with a cough, and my lips twitched. Arngeir cleared his throat and instructed me to try another shout, though I could see the Greybeard's eyes shine in humor.

***

After we ate with the Greybeards, Vilkas and I crashed out for the night in their trainees' quarters. It was one room with a few single beds, though the Greybeards didn't use it often. From what Arngeir told me, the last student at High Hrothgar was Ulfric Stormcloak. I sometimes tried picturing a young boy, away from his father, struggling with isolation behind these stonewalls. This place could be so lonely, and I was glad Vilkas was with me.

"Are you still awake?" Vilkas asked.

I wanted to answer, but coughed instead. My throat was scratchy, burning after a long day of using it in training. Although I used my Thu'um in combat, I never used it enough where my voice would give out. It wasn't all bad. It felt like strengthening a muscle, honing it, and fine tuning it.

"Yes," I croaked.

Vilkas chuckled. "I've never seen you use your Thu'um that much, but seeing you with the Greybeards was extraordinary. Almost like something out of a legend."

"There will be songs about how I nearly tore a gate off of its hinges with my Thu'um."

Vilkas laughed. "It would make for a good tavern song."

"Don't give the bards any more ideas than they already have."

We both shared another laugh until we were lulled back into silence.

"You know you don't have to follow me to retrieve the horn, right? All you agreed to do was see me to High Hrothgar," I said.

"I won't abandon you in the middle of your journey. Farkas and Aela are right. We might be safe at High Hrothgar, but those shifters are still out there. They're going to fight as a pack, and we will too. It's the only way we'll survive."

It wasn't fair to drag someone along while I fought the dragons. All the familiar arguments rehashed in my head. Divines knew Vilkas heard them time and time again, as did the others. But a selfish part of me didn't want to go through this journey alone. I wanted Vilkas' company, just as I had wanted him there with me when I journeyed to Markarth. All I could hope for was that I wasn't risking a similar outcome.

"That suits me fine. It might not be so bad with you," I said.

"Not so bad? And here I thought you appreciated my company."

"Sometimes I do, when you're tolerable."

"You're one to talk about being tolerable."

I was about to answer him back, but I coughed, so he snickered and said, "Get some sleep, Dragonborn. Your Thu'um sounds more like a choke."

"Goodnight, asshole."

"Goodnight, Harbinger."

Despite my fatigue, I found myself restless. The thoughts of shifters and dragons popped into my head once more. Not wanting to go into another anxious spiral, I wandered the halls of the monastery. I used to do that when I spent my nights at High Hrothgar, and it soothed me.

I started along my familiar route until the shrine of Talos caught my attention. Not for the first time since I lived at the monastery, I sat by it. The presence of the Divines was always a reassurance, even if it was through a shrine. My devotion was something that my parents instilled in me, yet I couldn't find it in myself to begrudge them for it. Somewhere inside of me, I knew they were responsible for keeping me alive at Helgen. I hadn't done good at honouring that promise I made that day. If I could rectify it as of now, it would be a start.

"Couldn't sleep?"

I turned to see Arngeir, still in his robes. It shouldn't have surprised me to see the old man up this late. Sometimes, when I still resided in the trainees' quarters, I would hear them chanting late at night in Dovahzul. It was a harsh tongue, not suited for singing, and the first time I heard it I was sure I was hearing some dark ritual being performed. Or if they weren't chanting, they were praying in silence at all hours.

"No."

"Neither could I. I thought I could interest you in some of this," he said, handing me a glass of wine.

I quirked a brow. "I thought the Greybeards preached moderation."

Arngeir's eyes glistened with humour. "It keeps my old bones warm in this cold weather."

I laughed, taking the glass of wine from his hands. We quieted as our attention returned to the shrine. I never imagined that I would drink wine with a Greybeard. Then again, returning to High Hrothgar was never in my plans.

"I'm glad to see you here again," Arngeir said.

"Are you?"

"Of course. I wondered what had become of you. I see you've done well for yourself. You've become a Companion."

"I'm Harbinger."

"Ah. A noble title, and quite the legacy to uphold."

I shrugged. "It comes with its issues, like being Dragonborn does."

"There's a lot on your back, my girl. I'm not unaware of that. We pushed you to your limits, though we didn't do it without reason."

His admission surprised me. Was it possible that this was his way of making peace after all this time? Regardless, acknowledging me as a human being instead of Dragonborn was enough. I remained silent, curious to see if he would add more to his explanation.

"And yet I would have liked compassion," I said, and Arngeir seemed taken aback.

"It's our task to train you and ensure that you can slay dragons. There is no room for mercy or leniency."

"I went from a healer in Highrock to a warrior almost overnight, then discovered that I was Dragonborn. All I wanted was answers. Why me when there are people like my shield-sibling who are valiant? What makes me so special?"

Arngeir's glass was half-empty as he answered, "Those are answers that only the Divines know. Even if you knew, would it change anything?"

I reflected on this while still sipping on my wine. I was tempted to answer him that it would change everything. If I understood why the Divines picked me, I could gain that courage and certainty to embrace myself as Dovahkiin. _That assumes there's a good reason. What if there isn't a "good" reason, or any reason?_ Regardless, it didn't take away from the fact that I was still Dragonborn.

"It doesn't, does it?" I asked, expecting no answer.

"That is destiny for you, lass. You don't have to understand it. If something is meant to happen, it will happen. We can struggle and fight against our paths all we want, but the Divines always set us on our due course."

"But we can choose how we react to that destiny, and how we conduct ourselves in the world."

"Indeed. That's what separates the heroes from the rest," Arngeir said, and poured himself more wine. I extended my glass to him, and he poured more.

"It can be a lonely path sometimes," I said, and tilted my head towards the trainees' quarters. "My shield-brother, and all those that are close to me, are wonderful, but at the end of the day, this is my battle, and my battle alone."

Arngeir stared at me with something that looked like pity. "Remember that you are exceptional, a mortal with the soul of a dragon. You carry a burden that no other being will understand in our time. With that comes certain… downsides."

"Being the Dragonborn makes me exceptional. I know that all too well. So many people make me out to be a living legend, but I'm still a woman. I have my fears and desires too."

"Well, assuming that the dragons were no issue, what is it you want the most out of life?" Arngeir asked.

Such a loaded question, yet the answer came to me immediately.

"So many things. I want to be the Harbinger that my shield-siblings deserve, not just for them, but for myself. I've been given this honor, yet I feel like I'm still not quite good enough. I want to keep helping others. And I want to be there for my girls."

"Girls? You have your _own_ children?" Arngeir asked, raising his brows.

"I do," I answered, and my brow furrowed. "Why is that such a surprise?"

"Forgive me. You seem very young to me, perhaps not past twenty-five," he said, a little too quick.

"Horker shit. I look like I'm nearing my thirties, which I am. However, I'm pleased someone has yet to see my grey hairs poking out of my braid," I said, not bothering to pursue any further questions. The wine was settling in, dulling my senses. "If you must know, I didn't give birth to my girls, but they're mine all the same."

"Oh, then that would make a good deal of sense," he said. "I know nothing of parenthood, but I assume you make a fine mother. Your girls are fortunate to have you."

"I'm the lucky one," I said, feeling a deep ache in my chest. I hoped they weren't crying for me, or experiencing nightmares. "Hopefully, I can return to Whiterun to visit them soon."

"Perhaps you will. You seem to have a good companion on your side as well. This might be your duty, but not everything needs to be done alone."

"I think I realize that now," I said, draining the glass of the rest of its contents.

Arngeir finished his wine as well and said, "We should both see about getting some rest. The night treads on, and you have a long way to get to Ustengrav to retrieve the horn."

"Before we part ways, I have one last question. I understand that the return of the dragons has something to do with me, but what is causing it? There has to be something underlying all of this?"

I was surprised that I managed to form such a coherent question given how drowsy I was. Arngeir gave me the same cryptic expression I was so used to seeing on him. He wouldn't tell me anything of any use. As he spoke, he confirmed my suspicions, "Your destiny is bound with the return of the dragons. Focus on honing your voice and retrieving the horn, and soon your path will be made clear."

I must have looked as dissatisfied as I was, because he added, "I cannot tell you more than that. Our role is to guide you. All I can say is that the answers will reveal themselves to you soon."

I muttered a "goodnight" and stalked back to trainees' quarters. That all too familiar sense of frustration that came with dealing with Arngeir returned. For how sympathetic the man could be, he was not one to divulge information. Never receiving straight answers was infuriating. Still, I had to believe he was sincere, and that it was the best he could do.

All wasn't lost, though. Somewhere inside of me, there was hope. Retrieving the horn was the beginning of unravelling the answers I wanted for so long. It was frightening, but I had to take that leap of faith.

Vilkas was sound asleep by the time I made it to our temporary lodgings. Arngeir was right; I didn't have to tackle this alone. But there were unspoken words: no matter how much Vilkas, or anyone, offered help, there would come a point where I would be on my own. That was my duty, and no companion could assist me. It was a terrible feeling that coiled in my gut, but I wouldn't give it weight that night. For now, I could appreciate the support I had from those around me, especially from the man that pledged to fight dragons alongside me. I kissed Vilkas' forehead before I went to my bed, appreciative of him and everything he'd already done.

As I closed my eyes, a surprising sense of peace overcame me. Although I didn't get the answers I was looking for, retrieving the horn would be a start. I went to bed that night with the thoughts of my girls and home in mind. If this is what it took to right my wrongs, I would do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 All comments welcome!


	21. Ustengrav

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I'm so sorry for the delayed update. I hit a bit of a block with this, but I think it's safe to say I've pushed through it. Without further ado, please enjoy our leading lady and man's time in Ustengrav.

_Mondas, 26th_ _day of Rain's Hand, 4E 203_

A few days after visiting High Hrothgar, Vilkas and I arrived in Hjaalmarch. We spent the night resting in Morthal, then made our way to Ustengrav. The familiar rush of adrenaline that came with exploring an old tomb washed over me, pushing me forward. I was determined to find the horn and bring it back to the Greybeards. It was one step closer to getting the dragon matter under control.

We trudged our way through Hjaalmarch's swampy terrain in search of the tomb. _Gods, the scent is awful, like rotten eggs_. Something was dying somewhere, I was sure. My eyes watered as I suppressed a gag. It was bad enough that the putrid odor wafted around Morthal, but the deeper we travelled into marshland, the worse it became. _I hope Arngeir was right about the tomb being near mountains. Maybe the air will be fresher there._

I heard Vilkas chuckle next to me. I turned to him and asked, "What?"

"This scent brings back memories," Vilkas explained. He thought this over and corrected himself by adding, "Well, not fantastic memories. When Farkas and I were younger, we begged Kodlak to give us more tasks. Real tasks, we would say. The agreement was that we wouldn't take on any official jobs before we were sixteen. My brother and I were impatient, and we kept pestering him. So, when we were fourteen, he had enough and found a job for us."

"Which was?"

"Collect deathbells for Arcadia's store. He said the best deathbells were in Morthal's swamp lands. He ordered us not to come back until we had sixty of them."

A small smirk played on my lips. "Let me guess. You were both so excited to take on a job that any job would do?"

"Aye." Vilkas snickered. "We spent hours plucking deathbells. The scent… Ysmir's beard, it's as awful as I remember it. Farkas retched."

"Mhmm, and you didn't?"

"Of course not. I'm made of stronger stuff."

"Horker shit."

"Fine, I retched first and Farkas followed. We roughed it out, though, and made it back to Jorrvaskr. Kodlak gave us fifty Septims each and told us that Farengar needed some skeever brains for an experiment, if we were interested. We refused and didn't ask him for a job again until our sixteenth birthday."

I laughed as I pictured the twins plucking deathbells while suppressing the urge to vomit, then returning to Jorrvaskr with their tails between their legs. For someone who never had children of his own, Kodlak knew how to deal with two over-eager teenagers. It was moments like those where I missed the old man. He could have given me some pointers on how to deal with my own girls when they would become headstrong teenagers.

"The smell brings back pleasant memories, doesn't it?" I teased.

Vilkas snorted. "As pleasant as that bard's singing at the inn. Ysmir's beard. I thought a dying horker was bad enough, but that?" Vilkas shuddered. "Terrible."

"At least you had enough good sense to listen to Kodlak. Every time I upset my father, he would have me collect manure for our garden instead of buying it off a local merchant."

"Just how often did you upset your father?"

"Often enough. Gods, I never got used to the smell, but it was worth upsetting him."

"Really? You were a rebellious teenager?" he asked, amused.

"Not in any real sense of the word. It was my… ah… relationships he had a hard time with."

"Oh? You had half of the boys in your village chasing after you?"

"Don't sell me short. I did some chasing too."

"So you drove your old man crazy that way, eh?"

I shrugged. "I had to pick an outlet. What else would a lustful and short-sighted teenage girl go for?"

"The same thing a lustful and short-sighted teenage boy might go for," Vilkas quipped.

We both laughed at that, but my father's words came back to me. _How am I supposed to marry you, girl? Which man in this village will take you once he knows you've been passed around more often than a pitcher of ale at a tavern?_ My father made it sound like I was being used and discarded like an old rag. However, his metaphor didn't hold up. It wasn't as if I was unaware that most men I slept with used me. I used them just as much. At the time, it was rebellion, and then it became a habit. Maybe it was a way to find some sort of companionship. Hadvar was the only one who was different. I always thought it would remain that way until Vilkas.

Apart from sharing a bed with each other in Ivarstead after my anxiety, nothing else happened between us. We didn't exactly have ample opportunity to try anyhow. When we arrived at The Moorside Inn, the place was almost as quiet as High Hrothgar, save the terrible Orc bard. Business at the inn was far from thriving, so there was no need to share a room with each other. It shouldn't have disappointed me that Vilkas requested separate rooms, but it did. We promised we would do this for Farkas, and so we did. Better to resist temptation than risk it. _That's what's so hard about this. I want him and he wants me, but we have to pull away from each other._

All thoughts of the inn disappeared when we saw the tomb, and the tent next to it. We saw and smelled the smoke from feet away, but there was no one around the camp. _Strange_ , I thought, furrowing my brow. Upon closer inspection, we found our bandits—their corpses were strewn about the camp, mixed in with a few wearing mage's robes.

"Necromancers," Vilkas hissed.

"It seems like. We'll have some living friends along with our undead friends in the tomb," I observed.

We headed down the stone steps leading to the entrance, finding yet another bandit's body sprawled on the ground. I bent down and placed my fingers on his neck, looking for a pulse, but found none. His body was still warm, which meant that there were still bandits and necromancers prowling inside of the ruins.

"Hmm… their little turf war must still be happening. We'll have to be quiet while entering. Are you ready to retrieve the horn?"

"Aye. Harbingers first."

I wasn't about to protest. The memory of Vilkas' limp body in the Dwemer ruins came back to me. Nothing would happen to him this time, not if I took the lead and kept an eye out for any danger. We would get that horn and so help the bastards that stood in our way.

All my senses were on alert as we entered the tomb, scanning for any of the bandits or necromancers. Vilkas and I spotted another hideout inside, along with more corpses. _They must be further in._ No sooner did I think when I heard someone yell, "Never should have come here!"

We followed the voices, keeping our footsteps light. The yelling grew louder, and one bandit shouted, "I'm going to rip your head off!" The desperation in their voices grew, their threats becoming more frequent and frantic. _The necromancers must be overpowering them._ I grabbed a potion to resist magic from my satchel and tossed it to Vilkas. He quirked a brow, and I glared at him. _Trust me, you stubborn asshole. You need this if you want to stay safe._ He offered no other word of protest and downed it.

We drew closer to the source of the noise until we came upon the fight itself. The necromancers finished off the last bandit with an ice shard. The man tumbled forth, still clutching onto his chest as he took his last breath.

Without saying a word, Vilkas and I charged towards the necromancers. There were three of them. We had the advantage of surprise, catching them off guard. One of them had a stunned look on his face, his eyes widened in shock as I brought my blade down on him. He never had a chance to react, but it gave another necromancer a chance to raise one a bandit's corpse. She twitched back to life, her eyes devoid of any intelligence, but filled with bloodlust as she sprung towards me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the last necromancer trying to slow down Vilkas with a blast of ice. His steps grew closer as he inched towards the mage. _I need to do my part to help him._ The undead bandit was giving me a run for my Septims. I had no choice but to use my Thu'um, at least to get her off my back for a bit.

" _Fus ro dah_!" I shouted and watched as the bandit flew across the chamber.

The necromancer stared at me, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. I smirked. She never expected the Dragonborn. I took advantage of her surprise and struck her with my battleaxe. The necromancer tried to cast another spell, but I never gave her the opportunity. She fell to the ground, the blood spurting forth from her wounds. With that, the undead bandit fell.

Vilkas defeated the necromancer, and we both panted, taking in the carnage.

"They woke up some draugr," Vilkas noted.

"Now I know what they mean by 'loud enough to wake the dead,'" I quipped, and took a health potion from my satchel. "Do you need this?"

"No. That was hardly a scrape."

"Are you sure?" I pressed, still holding out the potion.

"No. Keep it for when we really need it."

He didn't look injured, so that was reassuring. I stored the potion in my satchel again, and we continued to move forward. _Don't be so paranoid_ , I thought, walking ahead of him. _Vilkas is good at what he does, or else he wouldn't have made it this far._ Precautions were important, though. Maybe I should have offered him a potion to fortify his health, or his stamina, instead. Anything to avoid a situation like Markarth.

Vilkas and I continued deeper into the tomb, though my shield-brother's ultimate concern seemed to be looting the place. He fished into an urn and picked up a couple of Septims, along with a gorgeous sapphire. He flashed the jewel at me.

"This one's mine," he announced, grinning.

"Is it possible that we're in the middle of trying to find an important artifact and your concern is showing off your new sapphire?" I asked, biting back the smile that wanted to spread on my lips.

"You took my ruby in Markarth."

"It wasn't yours to take in the first place."

"Mhmm. Until you do something with it, I won't let you live it down."

I scoffed and dug into an urn myself. That was something I couldn't complain about with these tombs; they were well-stocked, if you knew how to look carefully. _A couple of Septims and an amethyst. Nothing good enough to rub in his face._ Still, I wouldn't complain about decent loot.

Once we finished looting the surrounding area, we searched for the next chamber. As we approached the threshold, I noticed the coffins. Everything was quiet, too quiet, but we both knew it wouldn't be like that for too long. For being dead, draugr's senses were keen. It took little to detect intruders, even the slightest of movements could set them off.

It went without saying that both of us thought it was wise to remain cautious. We kept our weapons drawn and our movements slow and soundless, no small feat given our armor. If we could avoid waking the dead, we would.

The coffins in the chamber shook and stirred, and out emerged draugr, every bit as terrible as I remembered. They stared at us with their glowing eyes, snarling. The first time I faced the undead, I stared transfixed in horror as I watched a corpse claw its way out of a coffin. They were no less terrifying or hideous, but they became a familiar nuisance. Tearing through their decomposing flesh became satisfying, as did the thud of their weapons and body as they crumpled to the floor.

I brought my battleaxe down on the first draugr I spotted, but it deflected my blow as if it were nothing. I gritted my teeth. They died warriors, and so they continued to fight as warriors. Two of them tried cornering me, though they weren't successful. I swung my blade, hitting both of them with one strike. One of them staggered backwards, and I took the chance to knock it prone before finishing it with one bloody stroke.

"Shor have mercy on you!" Vilkas growled, and lunged towards a draugr, slicing his head clean with his blade. The head rolled onto the floor, the glowing blue light of its eyes extinguished.

Vilkas and I worked in tandem, leaving a trail of blood in our wake. My blade tore at the draugr's rotting flesh, slicing through it as if it were paper thin, its blood splattering on my armor. I didn't hear the last draugr sneaking up behind me, but Vilkas did, shoving it off of me with the pommel of his sword. With another two blows from Vilkas' sword, the last draugr crumbled like a sack of old bones. We shared a grin. This was the best part of working with Vilkas; he was quick, competent, and I could count on him to have my back.

All was still once more. Vilkas and I knew better than to linger around, so we pushed on, our weapons still drawn. Those wouldn't be the last draugr we faced, and it was better to move slower and stealthier than risk being caught unawares.

Much to my surprise, there were no indications of more draugr. _It almost feels too easy._ In any other tomb, there was at least another chamber or two with them crawling around, especially those that had a Thu'um at their disposal. I realized why we had been so lucky when we stumbled upon a large iron door. _There's much more to this place._

"Slow and steady?" Vilkas asked.

"Slow and steady," I echoed and pushed open the door.

At a first glance, everything appeared as a tomb should, until we came upon a cliff. I inchined to the edge as the ground beneath opened like a giant maw. Ruins, or what appeared to be ruins, appeared in the distance, with a waterfall cascading into the clear pool below. It was serene. Given the circumstances, it was a pleasant surprise. Vilkas and I both came across tombs and caves that had ample flora and fauna, yet they were few and far between.

"Until I take you to Shadowgreen Cavern, will that waterfall suffice?" Vilkas asked.

I smirked. "Decided to cut corners on our dates so soon?"

"If your idea of a date is crawling around a musty tomb, you need to readjust your expectations."

"And here I thought my sense of adventure was part of why you liked me," I said, walking ahead of him.

"Like you? Who said anything about—"

I stopped him mid-sentence and pointed to the floor. "Pressure plates. I'm pretty sure they're fire traps."

"Look at the designs. They're diamonds, but only the ones on the right are dark," Vilkas observed. "If we keep to the left side, we can bypass them."

"Let me go first, just in case."

"You don't have to…"

"Harbinger first," I insisted, and walked on the pressure plates.

There weren't many traps, but every step I took was tenuous. I didn't want to trigger any of them. When I made it to the other side, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Vilkas should have safe passage as well. He followed my lead and joined me on the other side.

"Not bad. Now to find the draugr," he said.

"Don't sound so eager. They might find us first."

The deeper we went into Ustengrav, the more draugr we came across. As I suspected, some of them had the Voice, but it was nothing Vilkas and I couldn't handle. Such were the joys of exploring Nordic tombs.

After we cleared the draugr, we approached the ancient ruins. Skeletons patrolled the area. Vilkas and I shared a look. Those reanimated sacks of bones would be no problem to defeat. They were no match for us, their bones shattering from the impact of our blade. We then pocketed any goods we found and continued along our way.

We were just about to cross the bridge when I noticed a wall near the waterfall down below. I heard whispering. It was faint and familiar. _It's a Word Wall._

"We should check that out before proceeding," I said.

We found a path to the waterfall, the whispering of voices beckoning me to come closer, growing louder with each step. Though the words were indistinct at first, they resonated with clarity as a I drew near. _Noble Nords remember the words of the hoar father: it is the duty of each man to live with courage and honor lest he fade into darkness._ I pressed my hand onto the ancient stone and absorbed the word, a cold gust of air surging through me.

" _Feim_!" I shouted and felt no different than before.

"Anyaie! Where are you?" Vilkas asked, all color drained from his face.

"What do you mean? I'm right in front of you!"

"Shor's balls! I can hear you, but I can't see you."

I looked down at my hands, only to find that they weren't there. " _Lest he fade into darkness."_

"The spell makes me invisible," I said, and saw my hands once more. The relief flooded in Vilkas' eyes. _What a sap_ , I thought.

"I remember the Greybeards told me about this shout once. _Feim zii gron_. Become ethereal. Arngeir said that no one could harm me, but neither can I harm them back," I explained.

"Not a terrible shout to have in a pinch," Vilkas observed.

"You'd rather see me, right?" I teased.

"I would." He shrugged. "The last thing I need is to have you wandering as a ghost around Jorrvaskr."

"Can you imagine all the fun I could have? Maybe I can even pocket your sapphire...ah, but I digress. I'm sure that's all your concern is and not the fact that you enjoy looking at me."

"You're so full of…"

"How about we cross that bridge and find the horn?"

He scowled at me, and I gave him a smirk. "An order's an order, brother."

We retraced our steps and crossed the bridge. We found three strange stones, each spread a couple feet away from each other. Just as we wandered to investigate, an arrow zipped past us.

"Godsdamn it. The dead really don't rest," I grumbled.

I found the skeleton firing an arrow up the wooden steps. I rushed up the steps and made quick work of it. _Gods, they're annoying. At least there are some urns up here._ The urns only had a single Septim. I met Vilkas downstairs once more and dropped the Septim in his hands.

He raised a brow. "Pocketed the rest for yourself, Harbinger?"

"No, my most annoying shield-brother. There was only one Septim, and I gave it to you."

"Your first present to me?" he joked. "I'm touched."

"If this is your idea of a present, you need to readjust your expectations," I mimicked, using his words from earlier, and he laughed.

"Alright, alright. Point taken. Let's figure out how to get past these gates."

Both of us searched for a lever or a chain. Vilkas even checked the skeleton for a key. The only solution we came up with was that the three stones near the gates were important. As I walked past one of them, it made a strange ringing sound, and the first one opened.

"We need to have all three activated at once," I told Vilkas, pointing to the gate as it shut again. "If we get them all at the same time, we should be able to go through."

"Let me give it a go."

"Are you really going to run in heavy armor?" I asked.

"Do you see any other choice?"

Vilkas sprinted, each stone rang out as he dashed past them. It was a good effort, but a futile one. I tried not to laugh, watching him from behind as he ran. By the time he reached the first gate, it closed once more. His brow creased. He tried again, pushing himself to go faster. He was met with a similar result, and more frustration.

"There's no sense in trying it out a third time. Not that I didn't enjoy watching you run."

He tried to muster up an annoyed look and scowl, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Of course you didn't."

"As much as I'd like to see that again, we're missing something."

"Hmm…" Vilkas scratched his chin and said, "Ustengrav is Jurgen Windcaller's burial ground, right?"

"Right."

"And Arngeir said that Jurgen Windcaller was one of the most powerful users of the Voice, right?"

"Right, but—ah! I get it. You think that there's a shout I can use to help us out?"

"Aye."

"Stand back. I have an idea."

I positioned myself to make a beeline for the gate. Right before I would get to the gate, I would use Whirlwind Sprint. That would give me the extra push to make sure the doors stayed open. I took a deep breath and ran as fast as I could. When I ran past the last stone, I shouted " _Wuld!_ " and crashed into the first gate as it was shutting down. I groaned and fumbled backwards.

"Are you okay?"

Two Vilkases popped up in my vision as I answered, "My head hurts."

"I have a minor healing potion right here. Take it before you try again."

He handed me the potion, a smirk on his face as I chugged it down.

"This isn't funny," I said.

Vilkas lowered his eyes and bowed his head. "Aye. Forgive me, Harbinger. You're right. It's not funny. It's hilarious."

The laughter peeled from his lips and I glared at him. _So much for a concerned and caring partner_ , I thought, rubbing at my temples. Maybe I deserved it after making fun of his running. Vilkas, being Vilkas, approached me and lifted my chin up. He grinned at me, which made me want to scream at him.

"You still have a pretty face," he said.

"You're insufferable."

"So you keep telling me," he said.

He lingered like that for a moment, all traces of humor gone as he stared at my lips. _Are we really going to kiss in the middle of an old tomb?_ The idea should have been more appalling. It wouldn't be so bad to have him kiss me again. But neither of us made a move. Before we could, we both remembered what was holding us back.

Vilkas pulled away, sighing, and said, "You have no bruises. Are you ready to try again?"

"I am," I said, as if we hadn't almost acted on our attraction. _Nothing happened_ , I reminded myself. _Nothing will happen, not until we tell Farkas._

"Good. It's a question of timing. Try to use your Thu'um as soon as you pass the third stone."

"I'm on it."

Shaking off the potential of a kiss, I placed myself in the right position, promising myself that I would get it right this time. _If only I weren't wearing such heavy armor._ I wanted to make a joke that I should strip down to my breeches, but I didn't think Vilkas would appreciate it. Instead, I eyed the gates again and rushed towards them, the stones chiming as I moved past them. The moment I passed the last stone, I let out my Thu'um, dashing through the gates before they closed.

"You should be able to come through," I called out.

We entered the next chamber, and we both paused. It was filled with pressure plates. If I had to make an educated guess, they were probably the same trap from earlier.

"We have no choice but to go through it," Vilkas said.

"No. Watch out for the diamond tiles."

"Aye. I suppose you want to go first?"

"I do. Keep your feet as light as you can and stay vigilant."

I felt his gaze as I stepped on the first plate. All of my movements were calculated and cautious. They had to be, unless we wanted to get singed to a crisp. He followed behind me, his footsteps as agile as mine. It didn't stop me from worrying about him until we reached the steps leading to the next section of the chamber. _He's been doing this longer than I have. I don't need to coddle him._

There were two Frostbite spiders scuttling around the chamber. _This should be easy_ , I thought, ready to charge at them, until Vilkas stopped me in my tracks. He pointed to the ceiling. A giant Frostbite spider laid in its web, eager for fresh prey. He drew his bow.

"Poison?" he whispered.

I nodded, grabbed it from my satchel, and handed it to him. He took the poison and dipped an arrowhead in it. It was a solid plan. I still held my breath as he nocked the arrow. _What if he misses and alerts the creature? And what if the creature..._ I stopped myself before I could finish the thought. He was fine. He would be fine.

He aimed straight for the spider's underbelly and let the arrow loose. It was a direct hit, and the spider let out a piercing shriek as it flung down from its web. As Vilkas put his bow away, I charged at the injured beast. The spider dodged my strike. Its pincers snapped open and poison flung forth, barely missing me. Vilkas dug his blade into the creature, the spider screeching in its last moments.

Once we took down the two other spiders, Vilkas and I checked the room for any goods. There wasn't anything of significant value, but I still grabbed some spider eggs for my alchemy, along with some Frostbite venom. We searched for a way out of the room, only to notice the thick webs that ran along the wall.

"There has to be a door behind here," Vilkas muttered. He grabbed his sword and sliced through the thick webs, revealing a wooden door behind it.

"And it turns out you're right," I said. "Good work."

He nodded and motioned for me to go first. It was a less than enthusiastic response, but I didn't know what I was expecting.

I tried not to let his sudden coldness get to me; we were one step closer to figuring out how to tackle the dragons. I pushed it open, my heart beating with excitement _. This is it. Behind this gate, there's the horn._ I gave Vilkas another glance, and he said, "Go for it."

I yanked the chain and watched as the gate opened. It took all of my self-restraint to not run towards the altar at the end of the walkway. Vilkas followed close behind me. _Finally, I will have some answers._ My heart was beating like a drum. The altar was so close now, and right on top of it was… not the horn.

The confusion and disappointment flooded through me. A note was in the place where the horn should have been. I grabbed the note and read through its contents, and the frustration burned in the pit of my stomach.

_Dragonborn,_

_I need to speak to you. Urgently._

_Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you._

— _A friend_

"The horn's not here," Vilkas said.

"No. Here. Read for yourself," I said, shoving the note towards him.

He studied the note and said, "We should…"

"I don't want to discuss it right now," I snapped. Vilkas grimaced. I sighed and added, "Let's get back to the inn first."

He didn't protest, saying little as we exited the tomb.

***

I was in my room at the inn, staring at the note. _Who could have sent this to me?_ I wondered. Was there somebody else in Skyrim who knew what to do about the dragons? If so, why hadn't the Greybeards told me anything? My head throbbed as the questions kept coming. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Vilkas and I should have been on our way to High Hrothgar again, the horn in our hands. Instead, it was in the hands of some stranger, and they needed something from me.

Someone knocked at my door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me," Vilkas answered.

I groaned. We needed to talk about our next steps. That was the logical thing to do, but I didn't feel like it. It would open too many questions. What I needed was to drink and go to sleep. Things wouldn't be brighter in the morning, but they would sting a little less.

"Come in," I said.

He entered, lingering at the door.

"Did you want to discuss something, brother?" I asked.

"The note that we found. I've been… suspicious," he said.

"So have I. Do you have any ideas?"

"I'm worried that it's one of those damned shifters trying to manipulate us."

"The same thought crossed my mind," I admitted, "but something doesn't add up. Why would a group of werewolves go after the horn? If this is a way to provoke us, it doesn't make sense. Hircine sent them. We can make a safe bet they worship him, so an old horn blessed by the Greybeards isn't something they're likely to go after."

"To distract us?"

"Fine, but until a few days ago, neither of us knew about the horn's existence. And I doubt they would have made their way to High Hrothgar to interrogate the Greybeards—or, if they had, Arngeir would have said something."

Vilkas leaned back against the door, pensive as ever. "Hmm. The only other thing I can think of is that someone else had to know of the horn's existence. Someone who can predict the Greybeards' moves, or has some familiarity with them. But then, who else would have an interest in you as the Dragonborn if not the Greybeards?"

"That's what's bothering me."

"I see that."

Vilkas still lingered by the threshold. The tension was written all over his face, as if he were debating something. Whatever it was, it vanished. His face softened as he came over to sit next to me at the edge of my bed, though I noticed he put distance between us. _He doesn't want something like what happened earlier happening again. That's why he's been acting more distant._

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier. I'm frustrated, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you," I said.

"There's no need to apologize. I understand you. This is frustrating. It was like we were on the cusp of getting answers, only for more questions to arise. It doesn't help that you've had the Greybeards deny you answers either."

"No, it doesn't. That, and the shifters… I feel like we're making no progress. Forgive me. I shouldn't be such a child about this. Anyway, the question is, do we go meet this stranger in Riverwood?"

We both reflected on this. If we were wrong about the shifters being uninvolved, we could be walking into a trap. Regardless of whether it was the shifters, there was no guarantee that whoever left that note was trustworthy. Anybody could claim that they were a friend, so the note wasn't reassuring. They claimed the matter was urgent, but anybody could do that to lure out the Dragonborn, yet if this was important, I couldn't ignore it.

After a long silence, Vilkas said, "The more I think about it, the more I realize we don't have a choice. We need the horn, and they might have some answers at least."

"I agree. That should be my first stop before High Hrothgar…"

" _Your_ first stop? You're not meeting them alone, Anyaie. If this ends up being a trap, it's better that I'm there as backup."

"I don't like dragging you into…"

"Don't finish that sentence," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "You've made that clear, and I've made my stance clear too. I will help you with this, like I said I would."

I had no strength in me to argue with him, so I said, "That suits me fine. Go rest up. We're heading to…"

"I'm not done yet, Harbinger. There is something that came to my attention today, and I'd like to discuss it with you."

_He's going to bring up the fact that we nearly kissed, isn't he? He'll end things before they start, and then we'll be awkward the rest of the journey._ I cringed. I hate awkward. Nothing happened, yet it almost did. We couldn't avoid talking about it anymore than we could avoid talking about the note.

"What is it?" I asked, bracing myself for the beginning of a painful conversation.

"Today while we were in the ruins, I noticed you were more… how can I put this… nervous, than usual," he said.

"Nervous? How so?"

"It's never been like you to worry that I'll step into traps, or stare at me nervously while I use a bow. I don't believe I've ever given you any reason to doubt my abilities, so I have to ask; is Markarth still bothering you?"

This wasn't the direction I expected the conversation to go. I'm not sure how it happened, but he was closer to me than before. There were no traces of coldness or apprehension in his eyes as there were earlier. Instead, he seemed concerned. _You're worried about me because I'm worried about you._ I almost laughed at the irony. I owed it to him to be honest.

"It is. This is the first ruin we've entered since Markarth," I admitted, and a harsh laugh came out of me. "It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud. It's not like we haven't explored ruins together before. We've been in life-threatening situations more times than I can count, yet Markarth was different."

"It was different. I almost died," he said.

"And that's… that's my fault." I looked up at him, the tears prickling my eyes. "How am I supposed to be a good Harbinger when I keep putting everyone's lives in danger? Athis is lucky his…"

"Don't go down that path," he pleaded, taking my hands in his. "This doesn't make you a bad Harbinger. I've told you before, I don't blame you for Hircine."

"But the Dwemer ruins…"

"I don't blame you for what happened in Nchuand-Zel."

"But you were so reluctant to go and I dragged you…"

Vilkas shushed me. "Listen. You know I don't do anything unless I want to. Believe me when I tell you I wanted to be with you in Markarth. Please, for the love of Mara, stop blaming yourself. What happened at Nchuand-Zel wasn't your fault. You saved me."

"If I hadn't been there in the first place, you wouldn't have needed saving."

"No, but then it wouldn't have brought us closer."

He ran a hand up my arm and said, "I know that what happened in those ruins shook you, but I'm a capable warrior. I can handle myself, you know that."

"Of course I do. You're one of the finest warriors I know."

"Then you have to trust that I'll be fine."

"I know all of that, on a rational level. I've seen firsthand how capable you are. But then the thought of losing you crossed my mind, like I almost did at Nchuand-Zel."

"But you didn't lose me."

"I didn't, but there was a moment when I was convinced I was… it was… it was unbearable."

He leaned in and whispered, "You won't lose me."

Vilkas ran his thumb along my lips. All the heat I saw in his gaze at Ustengrav returned. The right thing would have been to stop him and remind him of our promise. Instead, I pressed a kiss on his thumb. It was such a small thing, yet it set off a chain reaction. He crashed his lips against mine, hungry and desperate. I let out a moan, wrapping my arms around him, wanting him closer. Any thoughts of right and wrong vanished—this was right. He was right.

We tore at each other's clothes, stripping our tunics off. My eyes closed as he left hungry kisses along my neck, down to my chest. He removed my breast band and cupped my breasts, his thumbs grazing my nipples.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

His lips… divines, they were perfect. My back arched as he teased my nipples, sucking and biting them. The heat spread through me. If that's what he could do with my breasts, then I could only imagine what he would do if he went just a bit lower. I shuddered at the thought. I wanted him—no, I needed him. His lips trailed downwards, biting and kissing me as he went, until he was hovering right above my breeches. _Finally._

I opened my eyes, only to see his silvery blue eyes glowed in the dim lighting of the room, filled with desire. And that snapped me back to reality.

"Vilkas, we can't," I whispered. "Not like this."

My words seemed to also wake him up from what we were doing.

"Shit," he swore, and scrambled to get his tunic back on.

He ran his hands through his hair, cursing, and all I could do was sit there dumbfounded and half-naked. _We almost had sex._ That was the problem with being so close to him. I should have put up more of a fight when Aela suggested we go to High Hrothgar together. This was bound to happen, and I should have had the foresight to avoid it. I couldn't let things stay like they were. We needed to talk this through.

"Gods I'm such an idiot…" he muttered, pacing around the room.

He wasn't storming away, so that was a start. I gained my bearings as best as I could and slipped on my tunic.

"You're not an idiot. You just…" I began.

"I just what? Couldn't control myself? Couldn't keep a simple promise?" Vilkas growled.

"Nothing happened, technically. We…"

"You call us nearly fucking each other _nothing?_ If you hadn't stopped me, I would have…"

"And I wanted you to," I cut in, stopping him in his tracks. "I want this, Vilkas, and it's easy to get caught up in the moment, but we stopped. That's important."

"And what happens next time we're in this position?" he sighed, looked away, and ran his hands through his hair again.

"There won't be a next time until we speak to Farkas. We're going to Riverwood together, and then I'm travelling to High Hrothgar on my own."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not…"

"Vilkas," I interrupted, laying my hands on his shoulders. "We've been around each other for a week. In that time, we've been flirting with each other, and we came this close to kissing each other at Ustengrav. Not to mention now. Some distance might not hurt us."

"If I had been able to control myself…" he continued, looking away.

"Stop," I cut in, and I gave his shoulders a small squeeze, as if that would ground him. "You forget I want this as much as you do."

I had his attention, so I repeated, "I want you. That doesn't change, but you and I both agreed that we need to consider Farkas. Let me go to High Hrothgar, and we can tackle telling your brother together once I'm back."

"It's so soon… and it'll hurt him and…"

"It's going to hurt no matter when we tell him at this point. He will be angry, but he's your brother. It'll hurt, but he'll appreciate your honesty."

This appeared to pacify him, to an extent. In a surprisingly tender moment, he leaned his forehead against mine. The remnants of desire were still there, burning behind the regret. And there was something else there too. Something that I recognized in Hadvar all of those months ago. It was small, nothing but a bud. But it could be something more, if we had the chance.

"I wish things were simpler," he said.

I gave him a sad smile. "Nothing is ever simple with us. It's why we like each other. "

He gave me a mirthless laugh. "I hate when you're right." Vilkas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We're going to need to be more professional."

"We do," I agreed. "I'm sorry I was more flirtatious than I should have been."

It hurt to admit it. Bantering was one thing I came to like about my relationship with Vilkas. But it had to stop, and so did the mentions about us going on dates or him liking my appearance. Still, he opened his eyes, and there was a spark of amusement in them.

"You should. You have low standards for first dates," he teased.

It was a pathetic attempt at a joke, but I still snickered. "Then you're planning out our first date. Until then…"

My voice trailed off, and Vilkas filled in the blanks. "Until then, we're shield-siblings. No more, no less."

"Right."

His humor vanished as he said, "I'm still sorry. I should know better…"

I pressed a finger to his lips and said, "I'm Harbinger. I should know better, yet here we are. We'll get through this, together."

"Aye. It's been a long day. I'll leave you to rest," he said.

"Thank you. Be ready to make our trek to Riverwood tomorrow," I said.

We lingered, keeping our forehead pressed together. It would be the last moment we would have like this one for a while, at least until we spoke to Farkas. He brought a hand to my cheek and pressed one last kiss on my lips. It was chaste, just a brush of our lips, yet it told me more than he ever could. It was a promise that there would be more, one day, but we had to get through this first. I wished I could lose myself in him, but that would only lead to disastrous consequences.

"I should go," he said.

"I think that might be best," I said, pulling away from him. "Sleep well, brother."

"Sleep well, Harbinger," he said, and left me on my own.

I flung myself on my bed and groaned. Not going any further than we did was the right thing to do. No matter how much I wanted his company, or more, we couldn't travel back to High Hrothgar together. It wasn't him I didn't trust; it was me. If I hadn't caught myself the way I did, we would have had sex. _So much for being a good Harbinger._ It didn't prevent me from retracing his touches, or picturing his lips on my body, imagining what could have been as I found release with my hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments welcome <3 Also, if you're in the mood for a lighter and fluffier read, featuring our favourite brooder, I have another long fic going, [The Magic Lute](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417181?view_full_work=true). It should be updated by the time you get to the end of this chapter, so check it out if you're interested!


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